


Memories of rose-filled days

by MadamRed



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Ouran High School Host Club Fusion, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Otayuri Mini-Bang 2019, Rated T for language, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, We're in the US for this one lads, but not too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-01 05:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21390529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRed/pseuds/MadamRed
Summary: Otabek Altin from Kazakhstan has been living in the US with his family for over a decade. At fifteen, he gets accepted into the prestigious Ouran Academy where he plans to complete his secondary school education.However, his life takes a turn when he accidentally walks into the school’s Host Club.[Or, the Ouran-inspired AU no one asked for! None of the Ouran characters are featured.]
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Kudos: 28
Collections: Otayuri Mini-Bang 2019





	1. Welcome to the Host Club

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, when one of the first Otayuri servers had juuuust started, I came up with this idea of writing an Ouran AU and asked if someone would be willing to write it with me. Thebasicfrangirl was crazy enough to join me in this madness but we both abandoned the project a few months later.
> 
> We both had so much fun coming up with ideas and I'm still so damn proud of the whole universe we created around these beloved characters that, with their permission, I decided to use it for this bang.
> 
> Thank you to the lovely mods for putting this together and, obviously, a big thank you to caramel-draws for choosing my silly fic and drawing something for it! <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Otabek Altin walked around the hallways of Ouran Academy after class in search of a somewhat quiet place where he could sit down and do his homework.

To his surprise, every single nook and cranny was filled with pointless chatter that was of no interest to him: which exotic island someone was going to spend their weekend at, some other person asking if they should go for the Audi or the BMW for their birthday later that month, how someone had had their cards taken from them after buying an insane number of shoes, and so on and so forth.

Those weren’t the kinds of topics he was used to. In his old school it was all about sports, TV series, who was dating whom, and complaints about how unfair this or that professor was. He missed his friends immensely, but he knew that coming to this school would mean contacts and resources he would otherwise not have access to.

His mind went back to the day when he finally heard back from the administrative office at Ouran. His grades and answers during the interview process were well-received by the principal, and he had passed the entrance exam. Most importantly, he had got the scholarship he wanted.

_“Welcome to Ouran Academy!”_ the secretary had said after giving him way too many details about the uniform, the school itself, what the classes would entail, etc. He was still feeling dizzy a good fifteen minutes after he had hung up.

Looking back on it now, he wondered if he had made the right decision by coming here.

The grandiose designs of the architecture, the heavily ornamented hallways, the tall walls and excessively big classrooms made him feel slightly out of place, especially if he added the fact that people shied away from him when they saw that he wasn’t wearing the mandatory uniform and instead had his typical dark jeans and t-shirt along with his leather jacket.

His mind wandered freely to tune out the noise around him, and he suddenly found himself in a new area of the building which he hadn’t explored during the first week of class. Something was still bugging him as he kept on walking down the hall, though. It wasn’t until his echoing footsteps finally reached his ears that he realised what it was: quiet.

Complete and utter silence surrounded him, and he felt himself sigh in relief as he looked around for an empty classroom. He glanced up and saw a sign that read “Music Room #3” in fancy letters.

Pressing his ear to the door and hearing nothing inside, he shrugged and pushed the heavy wooden door open, only to be blinded by the light streaming into the room from the many windows lining the wall to his left.

He quickly shielded his eyes and the distinct smell of roses hit his nose immediately. He blinked rapidly and saw red petals falling around a group of mostly male students gathered around a huge velvet chair with golden accents resembling a throne, and heard how they greeted him in unison, their voices a mixture of pitches (though one voice sounded like a growl, somewhat reluctant and out of place, he noticed) to give him a simple yet overly exaggerated:

_“Welcome!”_

He stared, rather owlishly at first, but then a look of pure confusion took over his face as a tall student, the one who had been sitting on the velvet chair in the centre of the room, sauntered towards him, speaking animatedly and barely stopping for breath.

Otabek managed to register a few of his words amidst the incessant, and seemingly incoherent, rambling: _Club, hosts, types, dates, special requests and events, dances, tea parties…_

Where had he walked into?!

He looked around and saw a variety of expressions on the… _hosts’_ faces. But, he realised afterwards, that was his biggest mistake because the grey-haired man that was now standing next to him with an arm around his shoulders took it as an invitation to introduce himself and everyone else in the room.

“You probably know me already, but my name is Viktor Nikiforov. I’m a senior and the proud winner of Ouran’s annual best smile award for five years in a row. You may be wondering how that is even possible. Well, let me tell you that I’ve been winning since I was in middle school. Incredible, right?” Viktor, now he had learnt, gave him his best show-stopping smile along with a rose he seemed to have produced out of thin air.

Otabek’s silent stare didn’t seem to deter Viktor as he pushed him towards the centre the room. Otabek tried to stand his ground but found nothing to stop him from moving forwards as he attempted to fight against the taller man’s strong push... The more he resisted, though, the more persistent Viktor’s hands became.

Once Viktor seemed satisfied with their new vantage point inside the room, he started pointing at each new face and introducing the other hosts to Otabek.

“You’re a sophomore, right? Let’s start with the ones closest to your age, then! Here you have Seung-Gil Lee, one of the coolest people you will ever meet and top first year student. He unfortunately refuses to meet any clients, but he’ll answer any questions you may have about the club.” Viktor gesticulated towards a dark-haired man closest to them.

Seung-Gil just nodded, barely sparing them a glance from the clipboard he had in his hands. Standing next to him was someone who looked like the complete opposite of him.

“Next is Phichit Chulanont! A junior. He’s in charge of all of our official social media accounts and merchandising, of course. If you notice that anything is out of stock, just ask him and he’ll make sure you get whatever it is that you want.” Otabek (barely) managed to stop the shiver which ran down his spine when he saw both Viktor and Phichit wink at the same time.

The natural synchronicity of the gesture, and the smile that took over Phichit’s face right after, made Otabek feel scared for some reason.

“Next up... ah, Yurio, would you please turn around for a second to welcome our new guest properly?” Viktor called to the blond standing next to Phichit.

The man holding onto Otabek’s shoulders released him and walked towards the group to turn the blond using the same tactic he had used on Otabek.

“Let go of me, old man!” the blond hollered as he finally faced Otabek, albeit reluctantly. “And stop calling me that!”

“Oh, come on, Yurio! Don’t be like that,” Viktor said as he ruffled the shorter man’s golden locks; and in response the blond simply swatted the hand away and tried to kick the other in the shin. Viktor moved away and hid behind a guy with blond hair and an undercut, who was just smiling at the exchange.

Otabek could hear the two of them talking in low whispers but he was no longer paying attention to the group. His eyes were now fixed on the blond's beautiful face; it was like a porcelain doll’s, pale and smooth. He had gorgeous golden locks which framed his face perfectly and flowed downwards reaching down to his waist.

Despite his lean and overall flawless appearance, the blond’s most striking feature was his eyes; they were the most enticing colour, almost kaleidoscopic, a whirlpool of vibrancy — splashes of greens and blues, speckled with amber — and the intensity which radiated from them was practically palpable.

“Yuri Plisetsky, freshman,” was all the greeting Otabek got from the blond, and the Kazakh nodded, his throat feeling dry.

Before Viktor could continue with the introductions, however, Otabek felt the impending need to _leave._ Yuri’s steady gaze hadn’t moved away from his face, and he felt his face growing hot, the heat reaching all the way up to the tip of his ears. His palms became sweaty and clammy, feet beginning to move on their own. He felt himself move backwards, further and further away from the crowd of people, further and further away until he heard a loud _crash._

His shoulders tensed; he slowly turned around to see what had been broken. If every pair of eyes in the room hadn't been on him before, the noise certainly did the trick.

Being distracted on his way in, he hadn’t noticed a sort of pedestal on which there was a fancy-looking vase… and now its elegant, teal-coloured pieces were scattered all around the floor.

Momentarily, he closed his eyes, trying to swallow the embarrassment and fear he felt rising up his throat. His mouth felt even drier as he turned towards the hosts once more.

“Well,” Seung-Gil murmured under his breath before he addressed everyone in the room, “that’s a shame. I was rather fond of that piece of art.”

“I’m _so_ sorry.” Otabek opened his eyes and stared directly at the hosts showing them that he actually meant it. “I— I’ll pay you back! How much was it? Twenty or thir—”

“That vase was worth one million dollars,” Seung-Gil calmly interrupted.

Otabek felt how each individual drop of sweat started to fall down the back of his neck. One _million?_ Who the hell kept a one-million-dollar vase around, just like that? Who _were_ these people?

“I don’t really have that kind of cash on me right now…” he trailed off, awkwardness and a small sense of shame lacing each word.

“We accept checks,” Seung-Gil continued, a small smile on his otherwise expressionless face.

“I— I don’t—” Otabek didn’t know what to do. Neither he nor his family possessed that amount of money, and even if they did, he would not be able to ask for it to pay for a broken vase. Panic settled in his stomach. What was he going to do?

“Well, there are other ways…” Phichit gave him what Otabek supposed was a reassuring smile, but it did not reach his eyes. “You are here on a scholarship, right Otabek?”

“Yeah,” Otabek answered, unsure of where the conversation was going and surprised by the fact that these people knew his name _and_ status at the school after just one week.

“Why don’t you work for the club, then?”

The minute the suggestion left Phichit’s mouth, Otabek knew he was doomed. The rest of the hosts had looks which went from astonishment to absolute glee. The latter, of course, belonged to Viktor, who chose that moment to intervene.

“Wonderful idea, Phichit! From this day on, Otabek,” Viktor announced in a loud voice as he sat back down on his throne, “you’ll be the club’s dog!”

Otabek stood frozen in place. He could see the other hosts chatting amongst themselves, a collection of mumbles differing from whether he should wear dog ears or not, to what he would do during his period as the club’s _“dog”._

* * *

The next couple of days went by in a blur.

Otabek managed to focus on his classes like usual, but now his… extracurricular activities took most of his afternoons. He had told his family that he had joined a club — avoiding the details as to how, when or why —, and they were more than happy to hear that he had made friends so fast at his new school.

He hated lying to them but, at the same time, how could he tell them that he was pretty much the club’s butler?

It was infuriating enough that on his first day helping out he was made to change out of his leather jacket and was forced to smile as he poured tea into an endless number of cups because apparently they had enough with Yuri’s scowls, they didn’t need another member _"intimidating the clients”._

He felt vulnerable without his jacket because people could see that the garments he wore underneath weren’t designer clothes of any kind, but rather hand-me-downs from his father.

He sighed as he retrieved another empty tray of treats from one of the tables and made his way back to the kitchen.

When he returned to the main room, he leaned against one of the pillars, trying to blend in with the background as much as possible, even though he was aware that his presence stood out like a sore thumb. Every few minutes, he could feel a new pair of eyes focused on him before they went back to the host they had paid to chat with.

“Interesting crowd, huh?” Seung-Gil’s voice startled him. Otabek hadn’t even heard him and just stared in response, his heart beating stupidly fast after being scared.

“Shit, you can’t just come at people like that!” he said once he found his voice again.

“I _did_ say ‘hello’, but you seemed too focused on hiding to notice.” He deadpanned, unfazed.

Otabek glared at him, but Seung-Gil just brushed it off as if it were nothing and looked pointedly at Otabek, the Korean’s dark eyes rivaling his own.

“I actually came here to tell you that you have a request.”

“What? How? Technically, I don’t even work here.”

“Well, someone wants you, and we can’t deny a client, can we?”

He didn’t say anything, so Seung-Gil took it as a _“I guess not”_ and guided him to a lonesome table in the middle of the room where a girl was already waiting for him.

He gave her a nod and sat down quickly, keeping his eyes fixed on the pristine table cloth. After a few awkward seconds of silence, he looked up and noticed the girl was staring at him and he averted his gaze to his right.

He hadn’t noticed it at first, but Yuri was sitting in an armchair, arms and legs crossed as his fangirls praised him and asked him if he could put on some cat ears for them. He indulged them after a long sigh and posed for a group picture with them.

After the group dispersed, Yuri was about to take the offending ears off when Otabek snorted. Yuri’s flaming gaze fell on him and Otabek realised what he had done, immediately covering his mouth with his hand.

Before Yuri became fully enraged, their little staring contest was cut short by his client’s high-pitched squeal, her face completely red and her eyes directed towards Otabek.

Otabek returned his attention to the girl in front of him, grateful for the diversion since he knew Yuri would not try to chew his head off in front of a client, and offered her tea.

The rest of the “date” went fine and without any major accidents, and Otabek sighed in relief when the clients left for the day. When he got up, he started cleaning the table as he had been doing before and put everything on a little cart to take back to the kitchen to wash later.

However, he was surprised to see Seung-Gil stop him halfway through his journey to the back door. One of the other hosts, JJ — Otabek recalled — took the cart from him before clapping him on the back and congratulated him loudly.

Otabek stared after him and was about to ask him why he was being congratulated when Phichit and Viktor appeared in front of him with a pair of brand new shoes and a bag, which they handed to him.

Together, they pushed Otabek towards another door and closed it behind them, leaving him alone in what he could only guess was a changing room of sorts since there were a few mirrors around. Sighing in resignation this time, he quickly changed into the new uniform they had given him and exited the room five minutes later, struggling with his tie.

The whole club had gathered around the door, waiting expectantly. When he looked up from his third failed attempt with the tie, he noticed everyone was grinning at him. A new sense of dread filled his body, and he dropped the garment he had in his hand.

Expecting either Phichit or Viktor to come forwards, he was exceedingly surprised to see Yuri separating himself from the group and picking up the forgotten tie next to his feet. Without saying a word, the blond made quick work with his tie and, in less than a minute, he was stepping back to see how he looked.

Otabek’s heart was pounding by the time Yuri smirked, brushing some (non-existent) lint from one of his shoulders.

“Welcome to the club, asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, here are the hosts and their "types" as well as their school years:
> 
> Viktor - Prince charming Type / Senior  
Chris - Wild Type (but not like Mori-senpai) / Senior  
Georgi - Dramatic Type / Senior
> 
> JJ - Mr. Big Shot Type / Junior  
Mila - Vintage Starlet Type / Junior  
Phichit - Little devil type (Helps Seung-Gil with SNS and such) / Junior
> 
> Otabek - Bad Boy Type / Sophomore
> 
> Seung-Gil - Cool Type (Shadow King) / Freshman  
Yuri - Cool / Loli- Shota Type / Freshman  



	2. Tea

In the next couple of weeks, Otabek fell into a sort of a routine: he went to classes, did his homework, worked as a host at the club and then returned home completely exhausted.

The “work” involved in being a host wasn’t what tired him, but rather the extremely crazy ideas the club (Viktor) had and what people expected from him now that he was the new face around the place. There were apparently plenty of things he was supposed to learn...

For instance, Otabek never knew that there were so many types of teas and that there were specific ways to brew them. But, according to Viktor, he needed to know all the intricacies of the large supply of tea the club had at their disposal if he were to become a successful host.

Yuuri — one of Phichit’s regulars, though it was fairly obvious that he came for Viktor but was too shy to request him — had shown him how to brew various types of tea. Otabek learned that he knew about the topic thanks to his family hosting many tea ceremonies and Yuuri was the one in charge of preparing the beverage.

However, since Yuuri didn’t know how to brew all the necessary teas, only the eastern ones, he kindly asked Yuri, who agreed after some discussion, to show Otabek how to brew the more typically western types.

He started showing him how to hold a New Zealand styled tea ceremony, which simply contained beautifully painted china cups and finger sized delicacies, and then moved on to the Russian tea ceremony — which Yuri excitedly showed him how to present.

Yuri brought in a metallic vase-like container with intricate designs carved into its surface and a tap melted onto the lower exterior.

“What is that?” Otabek asked, pointing at the bronze container and watching as Yuri poured water into it.

“This is a Samovar.”

“A Samo— what?”

Yuri seemed to get a little elated glint in his eyes as he began to explain.

“A Samovar, it’s a traditional water boiler. Basically a pre-historic kettle. Here, let me show you how to use it.”

_He looks so at ease, _Otabek thought as Yuri guided him through the ceremony, describing each little detail with a certain softness in his eyes, which Otabek noticed he only showed when talking occasionally about his grandfather. He couldn’t help the small smile that refused to leave his own face as he gazed at Yuri standing so incredibly close next to him.

The two teens were so engrossed in what they were doing that they didn’t even hear the artificial shutter going off not too far away from their little table near the windows.

Phichit cursed under his breath from behind one of the loveseats as he fumbled with his phone and silenced it, sighing in relief when he saw that neither Otabek nor Yuri seemed to have heard him.

He got up from his hiding place and walked towards Yuuri, who had been so distracted by Viktor anyway that his friend didn’t notice he had left his side. He sat down and checked the few pictures he had managed to get. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to sell them or keep them for future use. For now, he simply smiled and resumed his conversation with Yuuri as if nothing had happened.


	3. Sweater

Otabek stretched, letting out a little groan when his back popped satisfyingly. He had been sitting in the same position for a while as he finished an assignment due in a couple of days when he finally looked at the time. He realised then that he would have to hurry if he wanted to make it to the supermarket before all of the discounted items were gone. And he still needed to make dinner for his family since both of his parents had to work late today. Thankfully, his little sister was going to be staying the night at a friend’s house.

Hastily, he gathered his stuff, put them in his backpack and rushed down the many hallways, quiet now since everyone had gone home hours ago. When he reached the entrance, though, he was surprised to find Yuri there, scowling down at his phone and muttering some curses in Russian.

“Yuri?” Otabek said softly so as not to startle him. Yuri spun around, settling his fiery gaze on him, but the threat melted away quickly.

“Hi, Otabek. I didn’t know anyone was still around,” Yuri sort of mumbled the last part.

“Yeah, I thought I was the last one around, too,” Otabek’s lips turned slightly upwards when he saw Yuri blushing a little after realising Otabek had heard him. “I had to finish some homework before I left. It’s… not always easy to focus at home.”

“Oh.” Otabek could see that Yuri wanted to ask him more about that, but the blond got distracted as his phone pinged with another message. “I can’t believe this,” he said and pocketed his phone, not bothering to answer whoever it was.

“Is everything okay?” Otabek asked him, concerned.

“Fucking peachy,” Yuri replied as he started walking down the road towards the parking lot and front gates of the school. Otabek had to jog to keep up with the other boy’s long strides. “Viktor promised to give me a ride home but he forgot and _ditched_ me because Phichit invited him, Yuuri and a few others back to his house.”

“Oh, that sucks. Don’t you have a chauffeur or something?” Otabek asked, as if the answer to Yuri’s problem were simple.

“I told him to take the day off because _Viktor_ was supposed to take me home. Ugh, I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that old man,” Yuri said and kicked one of the little rocks which lined the path up to the school.

Otabek wanted to point out that Viktor was only a few years older than them but didn’t voice the thought; Yuri seemed angry enough already, and he didn’t want to make matters worse.

“If you want, I could give you a ride home?” It came out more as a question than a statement.

“Do you have your own car?” Yuri asked, raising an eyebrow. Now that he thought about it, the blond had never seen how Otabek came to or left school.

“Not a car,” Otabek replied, a smile on his face. “A motorcycle.” He pointed at the only vehicle left in the student’s side of the parking lot and was happy to see Yuri’s eyes light up for a brief second.

“Wow,” was all he said in response.

“It’s not much, of course, but it belonged to my father. He kept it and worked on it himself even after he and my mum bought a car, hoping he would one day gift it to one of his kids,” Otabek felt the need to explain himself. “I seem to be the only one interested in bikes as much as him, so he gave it to me.”

Yuri merely nodded, not really knowing what to say to that. Otabek handed him the spare helmet he always kept in the bike’s compartment, and they silently made their way out of the school gates, Yuri’s arms wrapped tightly around Otabek’s middle.

The journey was quiet, except for when Yuri gave him a few directions here and there for the easiest way to get to his house. It was tranquil, the wind gently blowing on their skin, whipping Yuri’s long hair backwards. The rumbling of the engine had somewhat of a rhythm to it, soothing and constant.

They were halfway to Yuri’s house when they heard a loud noise before the motorcycle stopped moving altogether. They pulled over and Otabek started checking the bike to try and figure out what was wrong with it.

“I’m not sure what happened, the tank is almost full so I know it’s not that. I will have to ask my dad to help me when he gets home,” he said, already feeling guilty about it. His dad would probably be tired after such a long shift at work. “I’m sorry, Yuri.”

His hazel eyes were earnest as he apologised. It made Yuri want to reach out and touch his cheek, to sooth his worried features back to their usual stoic expression. The sudden thought surprised the blond, who quickly shook his head.

“No, you don’t have to apologise. It’s not your fault.” He shrugged and looked down at the ground, needing to avert his eyes from Otabek’s. He didn’t know if he would be able to stop himself if another one of those thoughts crossed his mind.

Soft hues of marigold and bronze melted together, layered by cotton candy clouds at their backs. Nighttime began to fall, its dark cloak of black speckled with sparkling diamonds covering the sun from view. A crisp breeze danced in the air, the coolness settling on their skin. Otabek noticed that Yuri began to shiver and unzipped his bag and took out a blue piece of fabric.

“Here, you seem cold.” Otabek lightly poked Yuri’s arm to grab his attention.

Yuri took it from his hands, blushing slightly when their fingers brushed against each other, the fabric unfolding and revealing a blue sweater. 

“Thanks.” A small smile adorned his face as he slipped the sweater on, the fabric warm on his skin. It looked worn but comfortable and seemed to smell like the cheap perfume Otabek wore... not that he was paying any attention to what Otabek smelled like.

“I can walk you home,” Otabek offered, his voice slightly wavering from the cold, more noticeable now that the sun had set behind the tall buildings of the city. “It’s the least I can do.”

“What about your bike?”

“I’ll pick it up on my way back,” Otabek explained with a shrug.

“I can’t let you do that. I’ll get someone to get it for you and give you a ride home.” Yuri didn’t want to inconvenience him any more than he already had.

“You don’t need to do that.”

‘True. But I want to.’

“Yuri.” The blond could hear the whiny-like complaint behind Otabek’s tone.

“Just let me do something for you. You’re just so fucking nice and it will make me feel like an asshole if I don’t do something. Just... let me help you.”

Otabek began to smile. Yuri seemed to get this gleam in his eyes whenever he was passionate about something, and it made him feel special that helping him made his eyes shine in such a way.

“Okay,” Otabek said finally.

“Okay,” Yuri breathed out, somewhat calmer than he was before.

“Thank you, Yuri.”

Once they arrived at Yuri’s house, Otabek didn’t even have time to take in the sheer _size_ of the mansion because, as soon as they stepped into the porch, Yuri was wrapping his arms around him. At first, Otabek didn’t know how to react but, before Yuri took his surprise as rejection, he brought his own hands around Yuri’s back, squeezing the sides of his torso a little with his arms to express the feeling he couldn’t quite put into words yet.

“Thank you again,” Yuri whispered into the crook of Otabek’s neck. “It’s nice to know there’s someone there for you, y’know?”

Yuri then pulled away and entered his house, giving Otabek one more smile and a wave, before the door closed completely. The resonating click brought Otabek back to reality, the door instantly becoming yet another reminder that Yuri was part of a prestigious world that Otabek could never enter.


	4. Nicknames

Yuri sighed as he heard the door click shut and quickly told the butler who seemed to appear out of nowhere to get someone to take Otabek and his bike home like Yuri had promised. The man nodded and left him alone in the foyer.

Yuri didn’t know why he had hugged him but he was _so_ glad he had. His fingernails dug into the sleeve of the sweater. The sweater. _Fuck. _He was so focused on the hug that he forgot to return it. Though he had to admit that the sweater was so snug that it seemed like a second skin, and even if he hadn’t hugged Otabek, he probably would’ve forgotten to return it anyways.

He pulled the blue fabric over his head; it almost coming off with one tug if it wasn’t for his long hair. Whilst removing the sweater, he noticed red cursive writing on the inside of the collar. Once he took it completely off, he turned the cloth inside out and checked, seeing that it wasn’t his imagination and there really was something written there: _Beka._

“Beka” was most probably Otabek’s nickname or something. The sweater didn’t have any tags or any designer labels so it must’ve been handmade, maybe by his mother or grandmother, and they had embroidered his name onto the collar.

_Must be nice to have siblings_, Yuri mused before finally moving away from the door and up to his room.

* * *

Otabek’s day couldn’t have started in a worse way.

He woke up late thanks to his little sister unplugging his phone from the socket to charge her own, which meant his alarm didn’t go off that morning, and he barely had enough time to catch the only bus that would take him near the academy.

He got on the bus with a piece of toast in his mouth, hair a mess and tie undone. People were looking at him, but he didn’t care; he just wanted to get to school early enough for the maths test they had during first period.

He knew it would be a really close call and had to run the moment he saw the school gates begin to close. He didn’t stop running until he reached the classroom and made it just in time before the professor walked in.

He knew he was sweaty and his overall image left a lot to be desired — which, along with his hurried entrance, caused a few heads to turn — but, right in that moment, his main worries were to pass the test and make it through the day and club activities without too many accidents.

_Ugh,_ it was going to be a long day.

* * *

Yuri kept seeing Otabek in the corridors, he always walked towards him intending to return the sweater, but Otabek always got swept away by the crowd. Every. _Single._ Time.

The only time he was able to be in the same place as Otabek without him being somewhat driven away was at the host club, but he didn’t want to give it back then because it would create a scene. The clients would think it was an act — them creating strange fetishes out of it —, Viktor would tease him knowing that Otabek had genuinely lent it to him, and Phichit would take a shit-ton of pictures.

Yuri didn’t know why but he wanted to hand it to him personally; he didn’t want it to be a public display of anything. So he waited. He waited until the host club ended and Otabek finished with his clients, the rest of the members dispersing as they cleaned the room.

Yuri tapped Otabek’s shoulder and extended his hand, the collar of the sweater lazily hanging on his fingertips; the blue fabric swaying slightly.

“Here you go, _Beka.” _A cocky grin graced his face. Yuri was somewhat pleased when he saw that Otabek’s cheeks were tinted pink.

“You saw it on the collar, didn’t you?” He sheepishly scratched the back of the neck with one hand, his voice wavering a little bit from embarrassment, as he grabbed the item of clothing with the other.

“Awww, don’t be ashamed of it, _Beka._ It’s cute,” Yuri continued with his teasing. Otabek just nodded, his lips set in a thin line, and Yuri, unsure of how to go on, said what he had been thinking about since yesterday, “Hey, Beka, could I have your number?”

Despite the fact that the shocked expression on Otabek’s face would’ve been priceless in some other occasion, Yuri felt heat creeping up his neck almost immediately, all traces of his earlier smugness gone.

“Uh, sure… uhm…” He got his phone out of his pocket and fumbled to turn it on, glad that he had the chance to charge it during club hours.

Once he unlocked it, Yuri took it out of his hands and began to type his number into his contacts. When he gave it back, Otabek saw that Yuri noted himself down as “_Yura”_. Otabek looked up at the blond, his cheeks were pink and a small smile danced on his lips.

“Now we’re even,” he said as he winked before walking away towards the double doors.

And Otabek swore that he felt his soul leave his body then.


	5. Halloween

**Beka:  
** _Your turn to ask, Yura_

Yuri’s fingers hovered over the screen. Every time he as much as _read_ that stupid nickname, it sent his heart into a frenzy. He knew it was all his fault for writing his name in the guy’s phone that way in the first place, but his brain obviously refused to understand logic when it came to Otabek apparently.

He had been texting Beka for a few days now, just a few messages in the morning or afternoon, but today was the first time they had settled in for an evening of _texting._ It had casually began two hours ago — not that Yuri was counting or anything —, and after a few failed attempts at starting a conversation from both boys, they had decided to play twenty questions.

Yuri pondered what to ask for a minute or two — or rather, _waited_ because he had chosen the next question as soon as he saw Beka typing his previous answer.

**Me:  
** _When’s your birthday?_

**Beka:**  
_Oct 31  
_ _u?_

**Me:  
** _Mar 1_

He knew how far the date was but he went and checked the calendar anyway. Eight days. He had eight days to put something together for Beka’s birthday and, as he continued his little game with said boy, Yuri begrudgingly texted the only person who could make it happen.

**Me:  
** _I need your fucking help_

**Old man:  
** _Ah Yurio! What a pleasant surprise, you need help with what exactly?_

**Me:  
**_I need help planning Bek_—

Yuri paused, deleted the message and rephrased his text.

**Me:  
** _I need help planning Otabek’s birthday_

**Old man:**  
_Oh how exciting!_   
_How may I help?  
__Elephants? Hot air balloons?  
__Dancing dogs?_

**Me:  
** _I don’t need any of your extra bullshit at Otabek’s birthday… I need something cool_

**Old man:**  
_Awww my little Yurio has a crush  
_ _But in your eyes what is “cool”??_

**Me:**  
_STFU!!! AND DON’T CALL ME YURIO EITHER!!!  
_ _and idk... motorbikes and leather… shit like that_

**Old man:**  
_Hmmmmmmmmm_  
_Seems like Otabek is into punk and things related to that_  
_Am I correct?  
_ _When is his bday btw?_

**Me:**  
_Yeah, maybe?_  
_idk for sure  
_ _Oct 31, we have a week_

**Old man:**  
_Say no more!_  
_I know what we’re doing_  
_Are you ready?  
_ _A HALLOWEEN THEMED PARTY!!!_

Yuri thought about it for a second before he typed anything. The idea wasn’t horrible — although Viktor would never find out he thought that — and it gave him an excuse to involve the other members of the club and not seem like he was the one behind the whole thing. If he left most of the organisation to the rest, he could focus his energy on finding the perfect gift for Beka.

**Me:  
** _Okay, I’m in_

**Old man:**  
_GREAT!_  
_Oops, capslock_  
_I’ll let the rest know and we can fine tune the details tomorrow at lunch  
_ _G’night Yurio!_

Yuri didn’t even bother with a response to that horrific nickname and went back to his conversation with Beka. He read the boy’s reply about his ideal weekend and practically squealed in delight when he got a picture of Beka and his dad working on his bike.

Yuri smiled. He knew what the perfect gift was.

* * *

Otabek frowned as he saw the last group of clients leave for the day. He got up to clear the coffee table — ever since he started, he had got such a big list of requests, they had to move him to a two-loveseat set-up like the rest of the hosts. He didn’t have a specific “host type” but his clients seemed to love him nevertheless.

That wasn’t why he was worrying now, he had been reassured that his abilities as a host were fine time and time again. No, it was more about how _everyone_ had been acting weird around him. Well, everyone except Yuri, which, in reality, he knew it was normal but something felt… odd.

The hosts kept smirking whenever he interacted with Yuri and asked him questions about — but not limited to — his interests, his favourite vacation place, whether he thought private jets were overrated, among many, many other confusing topics.

However, the strangest thing yet was one specific host’s antics: Georgi. A senior who happened to have a _very_ deep love for the dramatics from what Otabek had been able to see during his short time as part of the club. The guy was famous for knowing _entire_ monologue pieces from various Shakespeare plays.

Georgi’s favourite, though? _Romeo and Juliet._ Otabek was almost sure he had heard practically every single dialogue from that particular work when the other host was with his clients, but lately it had been directed _at_ him. He would be minding his own business and, all of a sudden, Georgi would be there reciting one of the famous lines.

Although he had somewhat grown used to it by now, there was one line in particular that the other host practically singsonged whenever Otabek was within hearing distance. And it was creeping him beyond belief.

“Love is blind, and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit,” Georgi would chant, throwing rose petals everywhere.

Otabek always tried to decipher the line but he never seem to be able to fully comprehend what Georgi meant by it. After mulling it over for a few days, Otabek reached the conclusion that either a) his knowledge of the bard’s most famous play was still lacking — even though he was sure he had heard Georgi recite it enough times to recognise almost _any_ piece of dialogue from it — and there was some kind of hidden meaning behind the words, or b) it wasn’t even from _Romeo and Juliet_ at all.

For some reason, Otabek didn’t want to search and check which conclusion was closer to the truth. _Ignorance is bliss,_ he thought.

Everyone else was their usual self but just a bit more… _suspicious._

* * *

The next couple of days went by in a similar fashion and Otabek couldn’t take it anymore. No one was telling him anything! So, when he saw Yuri walking to class one morning, he decided to get some answers. He quickened his pace to match Yuri's long strides before the blond could get away from him.

“Yura, what’s going on?” he asked him, his shoulders slightly brushing Yuri’s. 

“Hmm?” Yuri hummed beginning to rake his fingers through a strand of his golden hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why is everyone acting so strange around me?” Otabek quickened his pace again so that he was walking backwards in front of Yuri. “Why are _you _acting strange around me?”

Otabek abruptly stopped and Yuri crashed into him, and when Yuri looked up, he was staring directly into his eyes; dark brown with specks of amber and gold — a certain hurt floating within them, too, he noticed.

“Did I do something wrong?” Beka’s voice was hoarse, almost like an elastic band being stretched to its limits, almost like he was going to break, and it just pained Yuri to see him like that.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Beka. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Viktor apparently always throws this... um, huge halloween party and all the hosts are just trying to put it all together... they’re just busy, that’s it…”

“Are you sure?” There was still some apprehension behind Otabek’s words. 

“A hundred percent,” Yuri confirmed with a small smile. He saw Otabek’s eyes soften at his words and he felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

* * *

When the day of the party finally arrived, Yuri was beyond nervous. He had been fidgety all day and got quite a few looks from Seung-Gil during class. He ignored his classmate as best he could, but his dark, questioning eyes felt like they were boring a hole on the side of his head.

The moment the final bell rang, signalling the end of class, Yuri bolted down the hallways and got into the back of the car waiting for him there. He was supposed to get home, shower, change into his costume, take the gift back to school and then go and pick up Beka from his house.

The plan was that the car was supposed to “break down” so that they could be late, and the whole club and the clients they had invited would yell the classic “surprise” and scare Beka shitless. Easy peasy.

But it wasn’t. Of course it fucking wasn’t. Because when Yuri finally made it to Beka’s house, he saw the boy in question waiting outside… with his clothes all torn showing parts of his flesh, the rips mainly centering around his chest and abdomen, fake blood smeared everywhere and fur sticking out of some places. He had even put on some fake hairy ears to complete the look.

Yuri gulped and had to take a moment to collect himself before he opened the door to let Beka inside the car.

“Hey,” Beka greeted him and looked him up and down trying to figure out his outfit. Yuri swallowed and settled on a tight-lipped smile because he had apparently lost his ability to communicate like a functional human. “Vampire?” Beka smiled, knowing he had guessed correctly.

Yuri was wearing a pair of black dress trousers, white button-down shirt with black suspenders, a suit jacket and a cape, all finished with purple accents here and there. Beka could also see a top hat resting on Yuri’s lap.

“Yes,” Yuri said and revealed the sharp-looking teeth he had put on, too. He was still getting used to speaking with a bit of a lisp. “And what are you supposed to be, bigfoot?”

Otabek laughed; a sweet baritone melody.

“No, actually, I’m a werewolf.”

“Don’t believe it. Aren’t werewolves supposed to be hot?” Yuri allowed some of his usual bravado to take over. He just needed to get through one car ride. Some light banter couldn’t hurt, right?

“What? I’m not hot? Damn, I guess I’ve been lied to my whole life.”

Otabek smirked, his eyes creasing and looked like tinted onyx in the soft light inside the car instead of their usual warm, chocolate brown.

Yuri blushed, the heat rising in his cheeks.

“No, you’re hot, just not behind all that fur.”

Did he really just say that? He didn’t mean to, but it just slipped out his lips before his brain could rein in the faux-confidence he was exuding less than thirty seconds ago.

The rest of the ride was filled with awkward silence, and Yuri was so relieved when the driver pretended to have problems with the car. It at least gave them an excuse to stand outside in the cold Autumn air; the harsh evening wind was a welcomed gift against Yuri’s flushed cheeks.

He texted Viktor to let him know they were halfway through to the school, and continued on once their driver “fixed” their little problem with some water to cool down the engine.

_My life is a fucking joke,_ Yuri thought bitterly, the irony of the whole situation settling uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

When they finally arrived at the venue, Beka exited the car first and offered his hand to help Yuri out of the backseat of the car. Yuri’s eyes widened but he said nothing, even after Beka’s hand left his. The skin on skin contact felt like it had burnt Yuri’s palm, and he unconsciously touched it as they walked silently towards the back of the building where the party was supposed to take place.

Before they opened the familiar double doors, Beka turned and looked at Yuri straight in the eye. There was the usual warmth along with something else... something akin to mischief. Yuri was lost in thought when Otabek said, “Wait, Yura… I never told you how beautiful you look.”

“W—what?” was all Yuri whispered, confusion and a blush appearing instantly on his face.

“Are we going to go in or just stand here?” His teasing smile back in place. He seemed to enjoy seeing Yuri’s flustered expression.

“Uhm… let’s just...”

Yuri glanced away as he pushed the doors, a chorus of _‘Surprise!’ _erupted from inside the room the second the door opened.

“What?” Beka asked, his question drowned by the loud cheers from the crowd. There was a gigantic sign hung in between the pillars in the room that read: “Happy Birthday, Otabek!!!”. It had been clearly made by hand and was signed by each member of the club.

Yuri took a step forwards and grabbed his hand as he started walking backwards, pulling his friend with him to the centre of the room.

“What? Did you really think we could’ve forgotten your birthday?” It was Yuri’s turn to smirk.

He was painfully aware of how much their hands were sweating in that moment, but seeing Beka’s soft smile and eyes lighting up as he absorbed the genuine love surrounding him made that tiny detail insignificant in the end.

* * *

The party was an absolute success. The hosts had to “work”, of course, since it was still considered a club event, but it was a much more relaxed environment than during typical afternoon dates.

Beka seemed to have a really fun time despite his initial shock at _having _to dance. It was not like he didn’t like dancing, it was more the idea of dancing in public that terrified him. Yuri, being the wildfire child he was, dragged him onto the dance floor, holding Otabek as close as he could without raising any suspicious eyebrows. It sent a thrill down Otabek’s spine to feel the other boy dancing so freely, touching his hands, his arms, his shoulders to get him to turn however he wanted.

And somehow, even though Otabek felt like he had danced with every single person in the room, he would always find himself gravitating towards where Yuri was.

He couldn’t help it. If Yuri happened to be nearby, Otabek would make some kind of excuse to whoever he was with in that moment and just danced with the blond. Granted, he only managed to do it about three more times after the first impromptu dance at the beginning but he treasured each opportunity he got to have Yuri close to him.

He just admired the way his impossibly long hair swayed along to the rhythm of his hips each time Otabek twirled him. He particularly enjoyed how Yuri would giggle once he got too dizzy from the spins, and Otabek would be lying if he said he didn’t like the feel of having Yuri in his arms as he fell forwards, resting almost all of his weight on his friend when his legs got too tired. With every brush of Yuri’s skin against his, he felt his blood rapidly pulsing through his veins, the rush of it making him light headed. 

Once the party drew to a close and only the hosts remained, Otabek’s eyes were covered and he was made to sit on one of the loveseats. When Viktor took the blindfold from his eyes, he was surprised to see at least three piles worth of presents. He turned around confused, but the president of the club was quick to explain.

“We told the clients that they didn’t need to bring you anything, but when they heard it was your birthday… well.” He gestured towards the piles, as if that were explanation enough. “Anyway, _these_ are our presents.” He smiled brightly and pointed at the much smaller collection of neatly-wrapped boxes and bags sitting on top of the coffee table in front of him.

“You… didn’t have to,” Otabek started saying, only to be met with incredulous looks as response. “You certainly didn’t have to go through so much trouble, so thank you. For everything, the party, the presents—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, we’re awesome. Now open them!” Yuri said excitedly, sitting next to him. Otabek sat up straighter and leaned forwards to grab a present, feeling his thigh pressed against Yuri’s.

Gift after gift, he became more and more choked up. They were all perfect: a music collection with almost each one of his favourite albums, a box set of his favourite tv series, a leather jacket, helmet and gloves, leather boots, and finally a first edition of his favourite book.

Otabek was rendered speechless. This group of amazing people had accepted him, made an effort to get to know him and carefully chose all of these gifts.

“I— um.” He tried to clear his throat several times, but his voice still sounded strained.

“Come on,” Yuri said gently as he took the book and carefully placed it on top of the jacket. “There’s one more gift you need to see.” And with that, he grabbed his hand again and pulled him through the door and empty corridors.

“Aren’t the others coming?” Otabek asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Nope. I told them to take care of the presents. I hope you don’t mind but they’re gonna open the ones from the clients and sort through them. We, um, we always go through those together. Just in case.” Yuri rushed through the words. There was definitely a story there, but Otabek was too preoccupied with Yuri’s hand still clasped around his to care at the moment.

Yuri dropped his hand when they made it to the front doors and Otabek tried to push down the imminent feeling of disappointment that took hold of his stomach. He needed to get a grip of himself.

“So, this— Uh, this is from me. Judging by your reactions back there, I just know that you’re gonna say this is too much, but trust me… it’s not. If anything, I don’t even think it’s enough, okay?” Yuri’s voice was low, and Otabek saw his cheeks taking on a rosy hue, barely noticeable under the dim lights above them. “Anyway, just… please accept it?”

And with that, Yuri opened the door and there stood the most beautiful motorcycle Otabek had seen in a very long time. He took a tentative step forwards, needing to touch it, but held back once Yuri’s words registered in his brain.

“Not enough?” he squeaked. “Yura…” he trailed off, completely lost for words.

“So, I take it you like it?” the blond asked, biting his lip to fight the smile that wanted to take over his face.

“Like it? I fucking love it,” Otabek responded enthusiastically, surprising Yuri with how carelessly he threw the curse word there.

“Otabek Altin cursing. Wow, sixteen really does change you,” he teased, earning a light shove against his shoulder before Otabek walked to the bike.

“This… this is a _Harley Davidson Street 750 _, isn’t it?” He trailed his fingers delicately over the vehicle, the leather seat, the chrome plating, the glossy black paint over the sleek metal. Yuri followed the movement with his eyes, completely distracted until he caught himself and answered the question.

“Yes. The guy at the shop said that’s one of the best ones in the market. And my own research said the same, so.” Yuri shrugged, as if it were not a big deal.

“Yura,” Otabek said, gaining Yuri’s attention. “Thank you, really, I don’t think I will ever be able to tell you how much this means to me. This… this _is_ too much.” Otabek let out a nervous chuckle, the more rational part of his mind telling him he could not accept the gift.

“I knew it. Look, you just gotta promise me something, okay?” Yuri said and stepped closer to him, bringing a hand to rest on one of Otabek’s shoulder, and the boy nodded. “Just promise me you’ll take me out for a ride every once in awhile. That’s more than enough.”

As usual, Yuri’s big smile took Otabek by surprise and, despite the bitter memory of how their last hug ended, he wrapped his arms around Yuri, trying to convey everything he felt in that moment with that single gesture. In turn, the blond hugged Otabek around the shoulders, hiding his face in the crook of his neck again. They went together like two puzzle pieces, their bodies fitting perfectly.

“Thank you, Yura,” Otabek murmured right next to Yuri’s ear, causing the blond to try and fail to suppress the shiver that ran through his body.

Otabek pushed back, just enough to look at Yuri’s beautiful eyes. Under the pale moonlight, the green was practically gone, replaced by the soft and endless shades of ocean blue, like whirlpools in the middle of a dark storm.

When Yuri caught him staring, he gently bumped their foreheads together, returning his loving gaze. Otabek drew in a shaky breath and felt his heart hammering inside his ribcage. He slowly tilted his face to the side and saw Yuri closing his eyes.

Their lips were only a breath away when they heard Viktor’s booming voice coming down the hallway. They jumped and stood on opposite sides of the bike as the group moved closer, bringing Otabek’s gifts with them with the help of their many chauffeurs.

“So, what do you think, Otabek?” Viktor said, draping an arm around his shoulder. “Ready to embrace that bad boy persona?”

“What?” was all Otabek managed to say, his brain still stuck in what was happening just a minute ago.

“Yeah! We’re gonna be doing a photoshoot next week for the Christmas calendar! Each host needs to pose in a setting which goes with their, whatchamacallit, _type._ You are our very own bad boy!” Viktor was sporting his signature heart-shaped smile as he babbled happily and the rest of the hosts loaded Otabek’s gifts into one of the cars.

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Otabek agreed, knowing that he really didn’t have much of a choice.

“Perfect!” Viktor said and started dragging him towards the car with the gifts. “Don’t worry about the bike. We’ll have someone drive it for you now. Sleep tight!”

And with that, Viktor closed the door in his face. The driver took off shortly after, apparently already aware of where he needed to go. Otabek sighed.

He would have to wait to talk to Yuri about that moment they shared.


	6. Observation

Otabek adjusted his leather jacket and folded down the collar; he may be the “bad boy” type, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to look presentable. He was about to scratch at his face when he remembered he had a bit of make-up on, to help with the lighting, and some black eyeliner, which Phichit insisted he “absolutely needed”.

He tried to move his body into the pose Phichit was describing, but the action felt stiff, mechanic. He had never been a fan of pictures, so this whole photoshoot thing was _really_ testing his levels of comfort.

They brought his motorcycle into the room, asking him to pose with it, the bike being an obvious and necessary plus to his “bad boy” image.

“Hmmm, try to lean on the seat,” Phichit commanded, waving his hand and directing Otabek where to stand.

Otabek mindlessly followed the orders, desperately wanting to get the photoshoot over with.

“Ok, now face the light and place your hand on your hip.” He heard the click of the camera go off a few times. “Okay, I think we’re done with you, Otabek! At least for now.”

Letting out a deep breath, Otabek relaxed his body, instantly feeling less tense and moved away from the bike as someone came around to take it back to the parking lot outside.

“Wow! Otabek, if life doesn’t turn out the way you want it to, you can always become a model.” Phichit whistled flicking through the photos.

“He’s not wrong.” Otabek turned around, seeing Yuri coming into the room with a messy bun lazily lying on his head, wearing a baggy grey shirt and black leggings, and with a coffee in hand.

“Ah, Yuri, just in time! You can go and get ready. Your costume is hung up in the dressing room and, by then, Mila would be ready to do your make-up.”

“Ok, sure,” he said and after that directed his gaze towards Otabek. “Just a suggestion, but maybe next time, you shouldn’t wear a shirt, just the leather jacket.” He winked at him and gave a small laugh when he saw Otabek’s eyes widening at the comment before heading to the dressing rooms.

Otabek moved away from the set, shedding the jacket on a random chair and grabbing a bottle of water from the table with refreshments. He settled there with his phone for a while, barely paying attention to the chaos around him.

After scrolling through the many social media accounts he now had after joining the club, he raised his eyes and took in the giant space.

At first, he was surprised when Viktor gave him an address for a random warehouse in the outskirts of the city, having thought they were just going to do a couple of group photos at school. He should’ve known better by now than to doubt the extent of Viktor’s madness when it came to the club.

He had thankfully been asked to arrive early, so his participation was finished for now… until the group photos began. He had eyed the rack of clothes in his designated dressing room and purposefully avoided looking at the outfits hanging there. He would cross that bridge when the time came, no reason to worry beforehand.

Once the initial shock wore off, he was able to appreciate the level of detail and quality these people expected from a silly _school_ club calendar, which he wouldn’t even see until _January._ He shook his head.

The set-up easily rivalled any professional one out there, and even if it was Phichit who was in charge of the pictures, he knew the boy had a good eye. The pictures were probably going to look amazing, especially since they were taken with those expensive equipment and lenses he saw lying on a table behind the main camera the Thai had used with him.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the music changed from rock to a soft-sounding melody, changing the atmosphere of the place immediately. He heard Viktor’s booming voice coming from the dressing room area, followed closely by a slightly flustered-looking Yuuri, who was there to take Phichit’s pictures when it would be his turn since he didn’t trust anyone else besides his best friend to do the job for him.

Viktor Nikiforov looked absolutely stunning as he stood in front of a dark blue backdrop which seemed to sparkle like stars in the too-bright lights. He was wearing a pair of tight, black trousers and shoes, along with a see-through kind of coat in different hues of purple and pink on top of a white shirt.

His toned chest and strong collar bones were visible thanks to the deep v-neck at the front, which Otabek was sure was going to be Yuuri’s cause of death — the boy looked like he was about to start bleeding through his nose.

His eyes travelled back to Viktor as he moved easily in front of the camera, completely used to the blinding flashes, his smile never wavering. As he changed positions, Phichit told him something Otabek could not hear from his spot at the back but saw how Viktor’s expression changed from cheerful to melancholic, his grey hair falling to the side as he brought a gloved hand towards his face.

The golden accents on his shoulders and the strings keeping the see-through material of the “coat” together, along with the deep purples of the gloves, helped with the regal image he was trying to portray since he was the Prince type host.

Before Otabek realised it, Viktor was done and sauntered off to seat and chat with Yuuri, taking full advantage of the opportunity to talk to him alone outside of club events, and Phichit was already beckoning Mila to come forward as the track changed once more. This time it was a much more playful song which matched Mila’s personality.

Mila Babicheva, the Vintage Starlet type and the only hostess of the club. Otabek almost didn’t recognise her as she stepped forward in a tight black dress, which flowed downwards reaching the tip of her ankles and pointed obsidian high heels. White pearls graced her neck, a long chain of glossy spheres, wrapped loosely around her. Granite earrings hung from her ears, silver framing the black rock. Her lips were painted a deep rouge, matching her vintage vibe, while her long lashes were curled upwards and made her eyes look bigger than they actually were. Her hair was left alone, slightly teased, her red locks resting slightly under her ears.

Mila, in his opinion, reached the hype of the vintage starlet, her overall look reminding him of the classic films that his father loved so much.

She posed over a round table, her elbows resting on the cool surface, long black gloves stretched across her arms, a long 50’s styled cigarette placed between her forefingers, the tip of it held close to her crimson lips. Otabek recognised the iconic pose instantly_._

Just like Viktor, she was done with her pictures in what felt only a few minutes, and then he saw her moving to the fully-stocked vanity on the far left, near the dressing rooms, where Yuri was already waiting for her.

She plopped down on a stool in front of him and wasted no time as she grabbed what Otabek assumed to be foundation and started applying it all over Yuri’s face with the practised ease of someone who had done that a million times before. Yuri just closed his eyes and sat still as she applied layer after layer.

Otabek didn’t want to admit it but he felt mildly disappointed as he gazed at Yuri’s robe-clad body. He had been looking forward to seeing the style he was going to be sporting for his shoot.

Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away from them, before he got caught staring, and focused on the end of Seung-Gil’s turn; he hadn't even noticed that the music playing now was a gentle piano piece. The Korean was wearing a fancy tailored suit, a light blue dress shirt, with a dark indigo sleeveless waistcoat, with matching pants and shoes, which went perfectly with his Cool type persona, or _Shadow King,_ as he had heard some of the clients call him one day. 

The dark suit and tie contrasted sharply with his pale skin, making him look threatening as he posed with one hand covering most of his face except for his right eye, which looked straight into the camera.

Georgi was called over afterwards, and it was so difficult to look away. He simply wore a blue suit with a red tie to contrast, a white dress shirt peeking from underneath and a blue fedora, his outfit was nothing special but the way he presented himself was what made it hard to not focus on him. He strutted onto the now yellow with thin white streaks backdrop, his chest puffed out and a black umbrella in hand.

“Why an umbrella?” Phichit innocently asked his gaze directed away from the viewer.

And instead of just replying to the question, Georgi took offence and melodramatically placed his hand over his heart.

“Don’t you even know the point of all of this? This is the whole _Singing in the rain _set up!” He looked around seeing if anyone had any idea what he was talking about. “Anybody? Seriously? It’s literally the best musical in history! Oh, the humanity!”

Georgi sighed and got into position without taking any of Phichits commands.

In that moment, Otabek saw the real reason why Georgi was deemed the ‘dramatic’ type. Although his quoting Shakespeare constantly probably helped, too.

Thanks to Georgi’s _very_ clear idea of how he wanted his shoot to go, he was done before the song from the movie could even finish playing. Once the dark-haired man sat down next to him at the back, they chatted about Otabek’s birthday party the week before and, surprisingly, Georgi was very easy to talk to when he wasn’t spewing quotes left and right to try and be cryptic.

Viktor’s squeal surprised the two teens — and everyone else in the room, for that matter. Otabek turned in his chair as Georgi brought a hand up to his face and sighed.

“I swear the only people who don’t know they like each other are those two.” The upperclassman pointed vaguely towards an embarrassed Yuuri and a very happy Viktor, who had practically draped himself on the Japanese boy.

Phichit, who had changed into his outfit already, was trying to pry Viktor off of Yuuri before the poor guy had a heart attack at age seventeen, and had to ask Seung-Gil to come and do some damage control before the shoot continued.

When the Korean managed to calm Viktor down and to take him outside for some fresh air, Otabek saw both Yuuri and Phichit sighing in relief. They moved back to the set, Phichit adjusting the camera and choosing a different lens, all the while explaining everything to Yuuri, who looked focused and nodded as he absorbed what his friend was telling him.

As Phichit moved towards the new backdrop, a pastel pink colour that matched his shorts, Otabek felt incredibly confused. Phichit was the Little Devil type of host, and Otabek had been at the receiving end of the Thai’s smirk a handful of times to know that the title was well-earned.

So seeing him, posing, with pop music playing in the background, in those shorts, a tucked-in white top and a dream-catcher necklace on top of it with a few feathers in the same soft pink of the backdrop was new to Otabek. Phichit completed the outfit with a classic pair of white converse and a long, summery jacket covered in flowers, the same colours as the ones in the flower crown adorning the top of his head.

Phichit looked like the very definition of what the internet would call “aesthetics goals”, his dreamy-looking expressions a clear contrast to the smile he usually sported around the club.

Once he was done with his shoot — after many, many pictures and quite a few kissy faces —, Phichit took off his flower crown, keeping his outfit on, and returned to his position behind the camera.

Otabek caught glimpses of Yuri, his make-up almost completed while Mila was still working on Yuri’s eyes. His cheeks were lightly contoured, making his cheekbones look much sharper than they actually were. His lips were tinted a light pink, smooth and plump. Otabek unconsciously licked his own.

Yuri’s eyebrows were filled in with a light brown pencil, and his eyes were being painted a shade darker than his natural tone, accented with thick lines of eyeliner curved at the end into a sleek flick to create a wing. It was mesmerizing to watch Yuri, his face looking so peaceful and relaxed, seeing how enchanting he looked despite him not wearing heavy make-up.

He looked away when Mila finished with his make-up and Yuri opened his eye. Otabek tried to refocus on the photoshoot once more.

Otabek didn’t realise that a whole session had passed until he saw JJ exiting his spot in front of the camera in a black suit and a black bow tie prepped under his shirt’s collar, his face wearing a smug expression as he headed towards the dressing room to relax for a bit, the jazzy song fading into silence before a more dancey melody came on.

_For the self-proclaimed Mr Big Shot, he didn’t make much of an impression, _Otabek pondered before his eyes moved towards the next host: Chris, the Wild one. Surprisingly, his outfit seemed… subdued. His tall, lean figure, which easily loomed over Otabek, was clad in sportswear: he was wearing a long, tight-fitted grey tank top over some black leggings, along with black and red trainers.

Instead of moving towards the new backdrop being placed, Chris and Phichit moved towards one of the columns closer to the vanity where Yuri and Mila had been just a few minutes ago. There, Otabek noticed, Chris slid down and posed like that, his face looking down, as per Phichit’s request.

After many poses, and more kissy faces, Phichit left Chris alone and went back to the backdrop set. Otabek realised there was only one person who hadn’t been photographed yet and his heart did a little dance when he saw Yuri slid off his robe and finally took in the clothes he was wearing. Mila helped him put on a leather jacket with some white wings attached to the back of it from what Otabek could see from his chair.

He couldn’t help himself and got up, moving as close to Yuri as he dared, while the blond was still distracted trying to adjust the wings which had got stuck in his long hair. Speaking of his hair, Otabek had been so entranced by Yuri’s make-up he hadn’t even paid attention to it. His usually smooth hair was teased at the ends, a few strands were braided on the crown of his head making a tiara within his hair. Otabek desperately wanted to run his fingers through it to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

He shook his thoughts as he saw Yuri walk towards the set, the backdrop and flooring kept simple and blank. The white shirt with a curved black cross on the centre of it that Yuri was wearing was loose on his figure, contrasting the tightness of his ripped black jeans, which made his legs seem even longer thanks to the studded high heel boots he had on.

It was a little too much for Otabek to handle, especially in a room surrounded by the entire club and a few helpers. Yuri looked stunning, he always did, but the juxtaposition of the clothes and his angelic face, made Otabek understand why the blond didn’t really have a defined style within the club.

Yuri always said he was the Cool type of host, but that title belonged to Seung-Gil already. His Angels, in turn, thought of him as the cute, young Loli-Shota type. Yuri didn’t fit either style, not even here when he looked like the very embodiment of this dangerous dichotomy.

During his short time as a host, Otabek had learnt that Yuri didn’t let anything define him except himself. Yuri, in the end, Otabek decided, was his own type… in some way the “Yuri” Type. And knowing that made Otabek smile. Yuri was like a bird in a cage, but that didn’t mean he was capable of spreading his wings and fly just yet. Maybe Otabek could help him see that he could in fact break away from those expectations and stereotypes.

Even the music, which Otabek identified as indie rock, created that contrast as well. The lyrics were angsty, but the voice and melody were tranquil. The song clashed in the same way Yuri’s outfit did with the softness provided by the wings and light make-up, but, just like the boy standing in front of the camera, it was cohesive in itself.

Once Yuri was on set, he effortlessly slid into position, his back arching forwards, legs bent and pressed against his chest. His wings were fluttered outwards, the tips pointing up, elegantly lit by white lights, making it seem like they were glowing, almost like heaven itself — Otabek could already imagine a bright halo circling the blond’s head. His long hair flowed, touching the ground, pooling around the area of his lower back. Yuri’s lips were slightly parted, the light pink tint making them round and full.

Despite his stunning looks, his eyes were the most exquisite as always; an endless pool of jewels. Otabek could never fully describe the beauty held within them, it was an undefinable treasure that could never be explained. They held an intensity that made Otabek’s heart beat faster than anybody could imagine, his heart in a constant loop, forgetting everything whenever he stared into the blond’s eyes. 

Little did he know that he was being watched by every single host, even Phichit stole glances at him when he was waiting for Yuri to transition into a different pose, his infatuation with the boy clear as day.

After what felt like an eternity compared to the others, Phichit told everyone to go change so that they could go about the four group photos they had planned. They changed several times and posed in front of quite a few backdrops as Yuuri took the pictures for them. Otabek was surprised when he found himself actually having fun for the first time that day.

When they finished with those, and before the hosts could retreat back to their own dressing rooms to change and finally leave for the day, Otabek assumed, Phichit turned away from Yuuri and addressed the whole group.

“Okay, guys! We need a few bonus pictures for golden members of the club, since their loyalty is held close to our hearts.” Phichit smiled, that little devilish smile that made people think that something bad was going to follow it. “Otabek, Yuri, why don’t you take a few pictures first?”

“What about the others?” Otabek questioned, suspicion obvious in his tone as the others went to change again.

“Don’t worry about them!” Phichit dismissed quickly with a hand gesture. “I’ll ask the others later.”

His smile never faltered, and really, what did Otabek know? He looked over at Yuri, who just shrugged. It occurred to Otabek then that this was also Yuri’s first year at the club, so neither of them really knew how it all worked from time to time.

“So, okay, we have a few more outfits in the dressing room maybe you could go and change into them?” Phichit suggested, pulling out a cloth from his camera case and wiping the lens.

When they came out of the dressing room, both were clad in matching suits, the only difference being that Otabek wore a dark blue tie and Yuri wore a crimson one.

“Well... don’t you look dashing?” Yuri said, his index finger poking Otabek’s chest, lingering on the tie for a second longer than necessary.

“I could say the same to you,” Otabek responded, staring into Yuri’s beautiful emerald eyes, a noticeable contrast to his own.

“Come on, you guys! Stop flirting! We only have the studio for another hour!” Phichit whined, his arms crossed and his left foot was tapping impatiently against the floor, his posture yelled annoyed, but his eyes were saying otherwise — a little mischievous glint to them.

“We weren’t flirting!” Yuri opposed, his cheeks coloured a lovely red. “I was just complimenting him!”

“Flirting!” Phichit singsonged, his voice a slight higher pitch than usual.

“Whatever,” Yuri grumbled but grabbed Otabek’s hand to pull him towards the set, where a simple white backdrop was already in place. “How are we doing this?” he asked, dropping Otabek’s hand in favour of crossing his arms. Both Phichit and Otabek noticed the blush was still there, but neither said anything about it.

This shoot went pretty much the same as before for Otabek, but he noticed he felt a lot more relaxed. Yuri’s presence next to him, as unnerving as it was because of how close they were made to stand, brought him comfort.

They moved easily from pose to pose: first, they pressed their backs against each other and crossed their arms; then, they did their typical “welcome to the club” pose, and finally, they looked at each other with their trademark serious expressions.

“Okay, I need you move a little bit closer while you face each other… closer… closer and there.”

Otabek then realised the position they were in, their chests were pressed together, faces inches apart. The easiness and relaxed atmosphere dissolved in seconds as their eyes locked, and flashes from the party came rushing back.

Yuri’s blush returned, Otabek noticed, as the blond stared openly at his lips. Just like before, Otabek unconsciously licked his lips, and Yuri followed the movement with his eyes, taking the tiniest step forwards. His mouth fell open slightly, and he tilted his head to the side, an action that Otabek mirrored without thinking. Their noses touched and—

“And that’s perfect, you guys! See, Otabek, you’re a natural at this! You should seriously consider becoming a model!”

Yuri smiled, an apology dancing in those expressive eyes of his as the spell they were under was shattered by Phichit’s comment. Using his index finger to gently push Otabek away from him before he said, “Mmhm… you really should, Beka.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Fun fact, in the calendar, each picture would be accompanied by a quote or funny phrase:
> 
> Viktor: “You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” ―Pride and Prejudice  
Yuri: “He has the laugh of an angel and the smile of the Devil. He’s a wicked, wild, and reckless thing.” ―Jordan Sarah Weatherhead  
Otabek: “I have a hard time with morals. All I know is what feels right, what's more important to me is being honest about who you are. Morals I get a little hung up on.” ―Brad Pitt  
Phichit: “When I have a camera in my hand, I know no fear.” ―Alfred Eisenstaedt  
Mila: “Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” ―Marilyn Monroe  
Chris: “Kissing burns 6.4 calories a minute. Wanna work out?”  
JJ: “I’m gonna go stand outside. So, if anybody asks, you can just say I’m outstanding!”  
Seung-Gil: “I have dined with kings, I’ve been offered wings. And I’ve never been too impressed.” ―Bob Dylan  
Georgi: “All the world’s a stage.” ―William Shakespeare
> 
> I'm going to be updating this chapter with Mel's (caramel-draws) art once it's posted as well as posting a new chapter in the next couple of days so stay tuned for more! <3


	7. Loneliness

“_Ana,_ what do you mean Nikol is going to be home?” Otabek pinched the bridge of his nose.

Yuri could hear the frustration in his friend’s voice. He knew he shouldn’t have been listening to the conversation but Otabek was also standing _really_ close to Yuri’s usual table at the club, so it wasn’t really _his_ fault.

“But I thought she was going to go to her friend’s house for a sleepover?” Otabek frowned as he waited for his mother’s reply. “No, it’s not that. You know I need to study for my exams. Yes, _ana,_ I know! But I need to have good grades if I want to keep this scholarship and you know how Niki is sometimes. Yeah, fine. I’ll see what I can do. Bye.” He hung up and sighed as he kept staring at his phone’s screen, even after it went black.

“Is… everything okay, Beka?” Yuri asked tentatively. It seemed to be a private, family matter.

Otabek raised his eyes, the frown leaving his face the moment he spotted Yuri, and came to sit down on the loveseat next to the blond’s chair.

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just…” He didn’t know how to explain what was bothering him, and Yuri waited patiently until he found the words. “It’s just that we have exams coming up and today my sister was supposed to be staying at a friend’s house and now she’s not.”

“You can’t study with your sister around?”

“No. She’s seven and wants to play with me constantly. And, like, I get it! We barely see each other nowadays since I’m here most afternoons and she’s still too young to understand that my grades aren’t just… grades.”

“Oh.” Yuri wasn’t sure how to help his friend until an idea popped in his head. “Hey, Beka, why don’t you study at my house today?”

Otabek looked up, his hazel eyes a mixture of hope and hesitation.

“You sure? I— I wasn’t saying all of that to get you to invite me, Yura, and I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

“Please, even if we find it hard to study together in the same room, we could just split up? I wouldn’t be offended, not everyone can study in groups.” He shrugged.

“Thank you, Yura,” Otabek told him with such a bright smile that Yuri would have been weak at the knees if he were standing up.

“No problem,” he said, smiling himself. “We’re taking your bike, though.”

* * *

Yuri held Otabek close during the bike ride, pressing his ear against his back and listening to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. The world seemed to fade away, buildings became a blur as they sped by and all other sounds disappeared, leaving only the heat of their bodies and the sound of Otabek’s steady heartbeat. Yuri revelled in the closeness until the last possible second.

When they arrived, Otabek took a moment to look around and to observe his surroundings. Tall, white walls towered over them, golden patterns accenting the edges, huge blue-tinted windows were placed symmetrically on the walls, and the ebony double doors he had seen the first time he dropped Yuri off were right in the centre.

Yuri’s house was so different from his. For starters, it was crystal clean, not a speck of dust was visible, the floors were spotless and the pearly white walls, pristine. A golden chandelier hung above them, millions of (what looked like) diamonds dangling from a silver string.

His thoughts were disturbed when he heard Yuri’s sweet voice say his name.

“Beka, my room is on the third floor if you want to study there, unless you want to use one of my father’s studies.”

_Third floor? Studies? How many rooms does the Plisetsky residence have?_

“U—uh, your room is fine.”

Yuri smiled and tugged on Otabek’s arm pulling him up the stairs.

“Mr Plisetsky,” a voice said behind them. “Welcome home. Should I bring some refreshments up to your room, sir?”

‘Yes, please. Beka, would you like some tea, coffee?’

“Uh, tea is fine,” Otabek mumbled, his brain still trying to process the fact that there was an actual butler in front of him, waiting for instructions.

“I’ll have some tea, too, Ivan. Please, bring the whole box so we can choose upstairs,” Yuri said, addressing the butler with a kind tone, nothing like the angry voice he used around the club.

“Certainly, sir.” The man bowed and disappeared through a hallway, presumably leading to the kitchen.

“Come on, Beka,” Yuri said and slid his fingers from his arm to his hand as they ascended the stairs, however Otabek stopped him when he spotted a portrait hanging on the wall in the first landing.

“Wait, is that you?” he asked, moving closer to the painting.

In the centre of it, a small blond child with a bowl cut was sitting on a chair, his posture perfect despite the distinct scowl on his face. He was flanked on either side by two gorgeous figures. The woman, on the right, wore her long blond hair loose and her slim body was clad in a simple, yet stunning lilac dress that went down all the way to her ankles. On the left, the man looked serious as he stood there in a grey three-piece suit.

“Yeah… fuck, I hated that haircut.”

Without thinking, Otabek brought his free hand up and combed his fingers through a strand of Yuri’s long hair, relishing how soft it was.

“I prefer it like this. It looks absolutely beautiful on you, Yura.” Otabek dropped his hand and looked back at the painting, missing the way Yuri closed his eyes and took in a shallow breath. Maybe he should’ve thought about inviting Beka to his house a little bit more. “Are your parents at home? I should probably say hello to them, at least.”

“No, they’re in France right now,” Yuri said casually, as he started tugging on Beka’s hand again.

“Holidays?”

“Work. They’re ballet dancers.”

“Are they out often?”

“Yeah… I’m kinda used to it now.”

“Oh.”

Otabek couldn’t imagine a world where his parents weren’t around. They usually helped him with everything when they weren’t busy with work. His dad helped him with his bike, washing, polishing and waxing it when necessary, and his mum always made delicious meals to fill him up.

“Come on, Beka, let’s go.”

The corridors were lined with a rose-patterned wallpaper and were empty, apart from the occasional golden, three-legged table with a clear vase, pink roses sprouting outwards from it. He could practically hear their echoing footsteps, the sound ricocheting off the walls. He knew they had reached Yuri’s room when he heard the door creak open as the other boy finally let go of his hand.

“Beka, are you coming in or are you going to stand out there?” Yuri asked with a teasing tone and smirked from inside his room.

Otabek shook his head, his bag sliding off his shoulders and into his hands as he entered. Yuri’s room had a warm vibe to it, different from the cold and desolate walls outside, and nearly every inch of the room was littered with something: game controllers scattered on the floor, books stacked up high up to his bed height, a pair of roller blades messily placed in the right corner of the room, papers spread out across a mahogany desk.

“Sorry my room is messy… I didn’t really expect any visitors.”

Yuri looked down, a frown beginning to itch at the corners of his mouth, and Otabek placed a hand over his shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles.

Otabek looked at Yuri, his eyes a chocolate brown emitting warmth; they reminded Yuri of a kindled fire. He got lost for a second and Otabek’s laugh startled him a bit.

“Don’t worry, Yura, it’s fine. It’s still cleaner than my entire house,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Yuri released a little laugh; it was quiet, but it was still there.

They spent a few hours studying the chosen subjects for the tests, Yuri’s butler bringing their beverages in silence, not really making any conversation besides announcing the arrival of the drinks and Yuri thanking him for them.

After revising, they decided to take a break, both wanting to play video games to clear their heads before continuing. Yuri was on his bed, lying on his stomach, elbows propping him up as his fingers fiddled with the buttons, and Otabek sat cross-legged beneath him, a stoic expression painted on his face.

“Don’t you ever feel lonely?” Otabek asked mindlessly after shooting a few enemies. Yuri remained silent, the only sound being the rattling rifles from the television. “Not having someone to talk to?”

“Beka, can we not talk about this, please?”

“Okay.”

“I can talk to you, can’t I?” Yuri breathed out, thinking Otabek wouldn’t hear but, to his misfortune, he did.

“Of course, you can, Yura. Why couldn’t you?”

“I don’t know, okay? You’re literally my first friend, and I have no idea how these things work!” Yuri admitted, throwing the controller next to him on the bed.

“First friend?” Otabek mumbled under his breath.

“I’m always fucking moving from place to place because of my stupid fucking parents! Paris was terrible, London was awful, New York, San Francisco! I just want to go fucking _home_ already,” his voice breaking towards the end.

Otabek instantly sprang from his position on the floor to sit next to Yuri on the bed and pulled him into his arms, gingerly rubbing his back with the palm of his hand, quietly shushing Yuri, trying to calm him down.

“Yura, I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t fucking know! You weren’t supposed to!”

His frail hands began to grip onto Otabek’s shirt bringing him closer, warm tears trickling down his face and onto the thin material of the other boy’s garment.

Yuri took in deep breaths, each one shaking. Otabek pressed his lips against the top of Yuri’s head, not fully committed to kiss it, but he put enough pressure to share his warmth, cradling him, soothing him, telling him that it was okay, that he had someone now.

“Am I that repulsive that no one wants to be near me?”

Otabek slightly pushed him away and gazed into his eyes, they were a glassy blue laced with tears. He placed his hand on Yuri’s cheek and brushed away the tears, making sure that Yuri was looking at him as he spoke.

“Don’t you ever say that, okay? You are precious and amazing, and anybody would be a fool to not want to be with you. Understand? You are valid, Yura.”

Otabek drew him closer, hugging him again, pressing him against his chest, Yuri’s arms trembled as he wrapped them around Otabek’s waist.

When Yuri calmed down enough and excused himself to go to his en-suite bathroom, Otabek grabbed his phone to text his mum and ask her to put another plate on the table that night, a plan already forming in his head.

“Yura,” Otabek said as the blond came back into the room, “my mum wants to know if you wanna come over to my house to have dinner? You know, as a sort of thank you for letting me study here.”

* * *

Yuri had seemed nervous when he agreed to the dinner, but as they stood on the Altins’ small porch, Otabek realised that he should maybe warn Yuri before they went in.

“Yura,” Otabek turned to face the blond, keys jingling in his hand. “There are a few things you should know about my family…”

“What things?” Yuri turned, too.

“Well, my mum will probably be all over you, asking you if you need anything every couple of minutes. Just smile and say no, and you’ll be alright. My dad might try to talk bikes with you, since he knows you gave me the Harley for my birthday. I’ll try to save you if he gets too specific.” Otabek smiled a little, clearly amused by his family’s antics. “But then… there’s my little sister, she, um, she can be a handful.”

“Beka, don’t worry. I handle _Viktor_ on an almost daily basis, I think I can survive _one_ dinner at your house,” Yuri said with a chuckle.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, okay?” Otabek fixed him with a look and opened the door with a sigh. “Here goes nothing,” he mumbled and allowed Yuri to walk in first.

Otabek left his backpack in the entrance and hung both of their jackets and coats, before gesturing for Yuri to follow him, a small smile was already on his face despite his earlier warnings about his family. Yuri looked around as they walked down the short hallway leading to the rest of the house. The walls were painted a warm cream colour and there was a small table with a land line, three sets of keys hanging from a rustic-looking key holder above it.

“My dad made it, he’s a carpenter,” Otabek commented when he saw Yuri’s eyes lingering on the object. “Come on, my parents are probably in the kitchen.”

Through the archway at the end of the hallway, Yuri could see two figures moving around a small, brightly-coloured kitchen, laughing at something neither boy could hear.

_“Ana, äke,”_ Otabek greeted them and moved first towards the woman, who kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair, much to his embarrassment.

“Zamira, leave the poor boy alone,” the man said jokingly and turned around from whatever it was he was cooking. He clapped his son on the back in greeting.

“Anyway,” Otabek said fondly and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, making Yuri smile. He had never seen Beka like that, so relaxed with other people. “_Ana, äke,_ this is Yuri, from the club. He’s a freshman. Yuri, these are my parents, Zamira and Arman.”

“Oh, he’s the one that gave you the bike?” Arman asked with a glint in his eyes before Yuri could say anything.

“Yes,” Otabek replied, scratching the back of his neck, already bracing himself for the onslaught of comments.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Yuri said politely, shaking the hand the man offered. When he turned to greet Otabek’s mum properly, she wrapped her arms around his small frame and kissed his cheek soundly, just like she had done with her own son.

“Please, the pleasure is ours! We’ve heard so much about you, Yuri,” she said, a big smile on her face.

“Oh? All good things, I hope?” he asked, looking at Otabek from the corner of his eye.

“Of course, dear!” She laughed, ignoring her son’s blush. “Now, dinner will be ready in about an hour. Why don’t you go to the living room while we finish up?” She wrapped an arm around each teen’s shoulders and pushed them gently towards the only door in the kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Yuri asked, not wanting to impose.

“Don’t you two worry about a thing,” Arman dismissed the offer, already turning back to the food on the stove.

“Come on,” Beka said, tugging at his sleeve. “It’s pointless to argue with them,” he whispered once they were out of earshot.

They walked past the dining room, where the table was already set — five plates. The beige walls, along with the orange and yellow artificial flowers in the tall vase in the corner, tied perfectly with the light wood of the dining table and chairs. The entire setting provided a feeling of warmth, which quickly put Yuri’s nerves at ease.

They continued through an archway which connected the dining area to the living room, and Yuri’s eyes wandered as he walked behind Otabek. Much like the previous room, this one looked inviting with its mostly white walls and four-seater couch, a TV propped up on the opposite side. The wall behind the TV was painted orange, and Yuri saw the same kind of flowers as before but on a much smaller vase on the coffee table in the middle, the bottom shelf covered in magazines and colouring books.

There were also a couple of armchairs on either side of the couch, and bookshelves almost completely covered the wall opposite the archway where there was a door. There was no clear order to the books, and the collection itself was a mess of titles in Kazakh, Russian and English.

But Yuri’s eyes didn’t stay there for long. As Otabek turned on the TV for some background noise, the blond focused on the pictures hanging above the couch. He hadn’t noticed them at first, too wrapped up on the colour scheme and the furniture, but now he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“Oh, look at you, Beka!” Yuri practically squealed when he spotted his friend, hair tousled as he rode a bicycle, his parents’ proud faces in the background and a smiling teenager in her own bike beside him. “Who’s that?” he asked, curious.

“Ah, that would be Alina, my older sister. She’s studying medicine at college,” Otabek explained, pride sipping into his features at the mention of his sister. “I was probably five when that picture was taken. It was summer and we had just moved here from Kazakhstan.”

“What about this one?” Yuri pointed at the next one, where a slightly older-looking Otabek smiled at the camera, cake smeared all over both his and Alina’s face.

“That was taken at the end of my seventh birthday party. Ali thought it would be funny to smash cake on my face. Little did she know I had had the same idea as her,” he laughed quietly, another fond smile taking over his face.

They continued like that for a while. Yuri asking question after question, and his friend answering patiently. Otabek had an interesting or funny anecdote for each picture, and Yuri couldn’t help but feel a small pang of jealousy inside him. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way, but in that moment, he realised all of the things he had missed during his childhood.

He tried to shake the feeling off and turned towards Otabek sitting on the couch beside him. The other boy had remained silent, allowing Yuri to digest all of the stories he had just shared, convinced it might bring back some of the sadness from earlier. They locked eyes for a second, and Otabek opened his mouth to speak several times, Yuri staring when his friend bit his lip as he looked for the right words.

“Yura—”

“BEKA!” A high-pitched voice was heard from the now open living room door, which Yuri had assumed led to the bedrooms and the rest of the house. “You’re home!”

Suddenly, a little girl came running towards them and threw herself on top of Otabek’s lap, smothering him in little kisses.

“Look what I made!” she exclaimed shoving a piece of paper in his face. Otabek laughed lifting her up and sitting her beside him to have better look at her creation.

“And what do we have here?” he asked her. He held the piece of paper in front of his eyes and observed it; she had made a painting. “Niki, that’s just beautiful,” he beamed at her and then passed the paper to Yuri. “Yura, look.”

It was messy but endearing in a way. It was a simple finger-painting of a sunset — the shapes were not clear, but the whole idea of it was. Yuri had to agree with Otabek, it was beautiful.

“Yeah, it is. Good job,” he praised, hoping to make a good impression on the little girl. Her eyes lit up when she heard his words, a huge smile crawling on her lips. Yuri noticed that her eyes were the same shade of hazel as Otabek’s.

“Thank you,” she said, her short legs swaying back and forth, kicking the couch in the process.

“Niki, don’t do that. _Ana_ will get angry if she finds you’ve stained the couch… again,” Otabek warned.

“Sorry,” she apologised and stopped moving so much. She looked at Yuri again and tugged at her brother’s sleeve to get him to lean down. Once his ear was at the same level as her mouth, she whispered, “Beka, who’s that? He’s _super_ pretty.”

Despite her efforts, Yuri heard her perfectly and blushed a little. He looked down and allowed his hair to fall down on his face, trying to conceal his rosy cheeks. Otabek chuckled at his sister’s comment and nodded.

“He is, isn’t he?” he said in the same hushed tone, and Yuri’s face suddenly felt on fire. “His name’s Yuri, he’s a friend from school.”

When Yuri felt brave enough to look over, he saw Otabek was already looking at him, his brown eyes sparkling in the warm lights of the living room.

“Hi, Yuri!” Niki said, distracting Yuri from Otabek’s mesmerizing gaze. “I’m Nikol, but you can call me Niki!”

“Well, hello Niki. It’s very nice to meet you,” he smiled brightly at her, willing his heart to stop hammering in his chest.

“Yuri, can I ask you something?” her tone shy despite the eagerness Yuri could see in her eyes.

“Niki…” Otabek started saying, but Yuri interrupted him with a hand on his arm and shook his head.

“Sure. What is it?” The blond made the very conscious decision to leave his hand on Otabek’s arm as he waited for the girl’s question.

“Can I braid your hair? It looks so soft and shiny,” she told him as she leaned forwards, putting her little hands on her brother’s leg to support her weight.

“Yeah, sure. Just be careful, okay?” he said and moved to sit on the floor, his back against the couch in between the two siblings.

“I’ll bring my brushes and ties!” Niki exclaimed excitedly as she jumped down and ran towards her room.

“Yura, you don’t have to humour her—” Even though they were alone, Otabek leaned down and spoke in a low voice right next to Yuri’s ear to avoid anyone else hearing them, and the blond had to fight the shiver he felt at the close proximity.

“It’s okay, really,” he looked up, his face now inches away from his friend’s. He turned away quickly, cursing himself for getting lost so easily in Otabek’s eyes. It was really unfair.

Otabek took advantage of having Yuri sitting on the floor in front of him and started combing his fingers through the blond locks. Yuri froze for a second but then felt himself relax as Otabek’s fingers gently got rid of the few knots created by the helmet Yuri had worn earlier to get there. The blond leant his head against Otabek’s knee and closed his eyes, enjoying the tender touches.

When Otabek heard his sister running down the hallway to the living room, he removed his hand from Yuri’s hair, but not before lingering for a second longer, letting him know he didn’t really want to stop. In turn, Yuri raised his head and smiled up at Otabek in silent thanks, causing the Kazakh’s heart to stutter.

By the time dinner was served, a delicious plate of laghman — a traditional Uyghur dish of thick noodles served with beef broth, beef and tomatoes —, Yuri’s hair had been expertly styled in a double French braid by _both_ siblings, since Niki couldn’t possibly do it all by herself.

Yuri was thankful because it kept his hair away from his face as he ate, enjoying the bantering between Otabek and Niki as they discussed which braid looked better. Zamira rolled her eyes at Yuri while her children “fought”, and the blond realised she did it in the same way Otabek had done before.

A bit of the jealousy from earlier returned then as he thought about how very few traits he shared with his own parents. One would only be able to tell that they were related thanks to his looks. In Otabek’s case, Yuri could clearly see what gestures he unconsciously copied from his parents and even from Niki herself.

A sad smile took over his features as he looked down at what little food remained on his plate. Too used to having his hair to hide behind, he didn’t notice Zamira’s eyes on him.

“Yuri,” she called him, and smiled when his gaze found hers. “Thank you for inviting our Beka to your house to study today, we know Niki can be… a lot sometimes.” They both laughed at that. One afternoon with her, and Yuri was sure Otabek hadn’t exaggerated when they spoke on the porch. “Anyway, just know that you’re also welcome to come here whenever you want.”

She patted his hand and smiled once more, before she finally settled the discussion raging next to Yuri, who was grateful for the commotion and quickly dabbed at his eyes to stop any tears from falling. He was touched by the kindness of the Altin family and felt more at home here after an hour and a half than he had ever done at any house his parents made him stay at.

“Yuri!” Niki’s voice brought him out of his thoughts and he turned to look at her happy face sitting next to Arman, opposite Otabek. “I want you to come visit again! Promise you will?”

And really, who was Yuri to deny such a sweet expression?

“As long as you braid my hair again, I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Hopefully, next chapter will be posted in a couple of hours :')


	8. Babysitting

Laughter reached Otabek’s ears as he stepped on the porch. He frowned and quickly got the front door open, dropping the bags on the floor to shrug off his jacket and scarf. He picked up the groceries again and walked down the hallway, surprised when he recognised the voice of the person who had just spoken.

“He did not!” Yuri said, tears escaping the corners of his eyes as Zamira continued with her story. He was dressed casually: black jeans, blue sneakers and an oversized, beige sweater over a white, button-down shirt.

“I’m telling you, he was _so_ scared Alina had got that little electric shock trying to plug in their game console, he came running all the way to the store, two blocks away mind you, in just a t-shirt and underwear to tell us about it.” Otabek’s mother finished her cup of tea and got up to leave it in the sink before looking down at her watch. “Oh, I should probably get going now, I don’t wanna be late for work.”

_“Ana,”_ Otabek said in a small voice from the archway; he was blushing as he stood there, the bags still in his hands. He looked adorable in his khakis and the blue, cable-knit sweater he had lent Yuri after the failed motorcycle ride. He looked completely different from the bad boy persona from the photoshoot.

“Sorry, Beka,” she laughed before she kissed both teens’ cheeks. “Niki, I’m off to work! Listen to your brother and Yuri, okay?” she yelled in the general direction of the living room, where the TV could be heard.

“Yeah, have a nice day, _ana!”_ came the reply, and Zamira seemed satisfied.

“Call me if you need anything. Your father should be back at around 7 with dinner,” she told her son before grabbing her purse and walking down the hallway. “Bye, guys!” she called and then they heard the sound of the door clicking shut.

“So, you like running around in public half naked, huh?” Yuri teased him, a smirk spreading across his face.

“Shut up,” Otabek mumbled and set the groceries on the table. He started putting everything away as Yuri handed him the items one by one. “When did you get here? I must’ve been gone for... what? Twenty minutes, tops?”

“Yes, your mum told me you had _just_ left to go to the store.” Yuri shrugged as he folded the bags once they were done. “She’s fun, your mum,” he added as an afterthought.

“She is, except when she’s telling embarrassing stories about me to my friends.” Otabek deadpanned, and Yuri just smiled innocently, not saying anything.

Otabek washed the mugs, and then they moved to the living room, where Niki was still watching cartoons.

“Niki, could you turn it down? Yura and I need to study,” Otabek said as the two boys took books and notebooks out of their backpacks.

“But I wanna watch this!” she whined, trying to convince her brother to let her do it with the sole power of her puppy eyes.

“No, _ana_ told me you had homework, too,” he replied calmly.

“Fine,” she grumbled and turned the TV off before walking away to grab her own things from her room.

“Get ready for an afternoon full of whining and tantrums,” Otabek told Yuri in a whisper.

“Is she always like that?” the blond asked, settling himself on the soft rug that peeked out from beneath the coffee table.

“No, she usually behaves when my parents are home, knowing that _ana_ will not hesitate to ground her. With me, though…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I love her to pieces, but she really needs to learn to listen to me when I say no.”

“She seemed alright just a minute ago,” Yuri observed, opening his maths book and frowning down at his homework.

“That’s only because _you’re_ here,” Otabek pointed out, taking a seat next to Yuri, their knees touching underneath the table. “She’s been going on and on about you coming back, non-stop, for two weeks,” he sighed in annoyance.

“She’s cute, though.” Yuri bumped Beka’s shoulder with his own and smiled. _Just like you._

“Let me know if you feel the same way by 7 pm.”

* * *

Scratching his eye repeatedly, Otabek sighed as he couldn’t get the thing that was annoying him out of his eye.

“Excuse me Yura but, can you look over Niki for a while, please?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Yuri replied without paying too much attention.

“Thanks.”

Fiddling with his hair, Yuri looked over the next question. He heard Otabek as he walked to another room down the hall to the bedrooms, the hissing sound of water hitting his ears. He heard his friend’s footsteps, heavy and steady, become louder as he came back to sit next to him.

Yuri turned to Otabek to ask him how to complete the question that was giving him trouble, but his mouth seemed to fail him, his hands gripping onto the rug tightly.

“You wear glasses?” Yuri pretty much whispered. Instinctively, his hand reached out and began tracing the black frames.

“Yeah, I do. Problem?” Otabek breathed out, his eyes focused on Yuri’s parted lips.

“No, just... perfect.” Yuri’s hand fell from Otabek’s glasses, slowly dragging his fingers down until they landed on Otabek’s cheek and then his neck, his thumb beginning to rub little circles on his jaw.

_“Beka!_ I’m hungry!” Nikol sprung from her position on the couch, her little feet stomping against the wooden floor, and jumped onto Otabek’s lap, stretching herself over both her brother’s and Yuri’s legs, her body going limp and heavy once her back made contact with their knees. “I’m _hungry!”_

“Okay, Niki, we heard you the first time.” He hoisted her up placing her within Yuri’s arms so he could stand up. “What do you want? Fruit salad? Carrot sticks?”

“Ewww!” Niki pulled a face of disgust; her eyebrows creased together and her nose scrunched up. “I don’t want no rabbit food.”

Yuri failed to suppress a snort; her word choice amused him. Otabek looked at Yuri, his eyes pleading him not to encourage his little sister.

“Well, _ana_ said no sugary snacks,” Otabek insisted, voice still calm.

_“Ana’s_ not here,” she retorted, sticking her tongue out.

“True, but she did say that you need to listen to me.” He fixed her with a look, and Yuri could immediately tell it had not been the wisest thing to do.

“But I _don’t_ want any of that!” Her voice rose with each new word until she was pretty much yelling.

“Nikol—” Otabek began, only to be interrupted by Niki, who started screaming bloody murder.

“Lalalalalala,” was all she said, but it was effective enough to drown her brother’s pleas for silence.

Yuri wanted to help, he really did, but he had no idea how to handle children. He could barely deal with people his own age and only tolerated adults when he had to, and this was Beka’s sister on his lap, screaming her lungs out. He could already feel a small headache forming.

After a few more tries, Otabek gave up on the pacific route and raised his voice a bit, only to be rewarded with his sister’s Oscar-worthy crying act. If he hadn’t felt guilty for yelling at her, the fake tears would’ve done it.

Otabek raised his eyes and stared at Yuri, silently begging his friend to help him with the difficult situation, hoping that he had a solution. The only thing Yuri could think of was to distract her.

“Nikol, what do you want to be when you are older?” Yuri asked, his voice hushed in an effort to calm her. In a second, the little girl stopped the show and looked up at the blond, wiping the tears away.

“I want to be an astronaut,” she replied proudly, her eyes filling with joy.

“Astronauts are out there in space where it’s dark, right?”

Niki silently nodded, a tiny _“mhm”_ escaping her lips.

“I’m not sure if you know this cause it’s top secret information, but carrots help you see better, even in the dark, and _all _astronauts eat carrots, isn’t that right, Beka?”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.” He smiled in relief, realising what his friend was trying to do.

“So, if you want to be an astronaut, you must eat carrots.” Yuri got up from the floor, with Nikol safely cradled in his arms, and began to walk to the kitchen.

Otabek just stared at the doorway, shocked at how easily Yuri convinced her to eat something healthy. He shook his head and followed them into the kitchen a second later.

“So, what do _you_ want to be when you grow up?” Otabek heard Nikol ask Yuri when he arrived.

She was perched on the kitchen seat as Yuri chopped the carrots into thin slices, his hair tied up in a messy bun, a few strands falling down his face.

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” he hummed, tucking a loose strand behind his ear.

“What do you like to do?”

“Hobbies, you mean?” She nodded. “I like ballet.”

“Are you good at it?”

“I don’t like to brag, but yeah, I am.” A small but bright smile took over his face.

“That is amazing!” Her eyes widened in excitement, a squeal coming out of her lips. “Do you think you could teach me?”

“If you would like to learn, of course.” He scooped up all the carrot sticks and placed them in a bowl, sliding it across the table towards Nikol. “But you will have to do me a favour.”

“Anything, what is it?” She leaned forwards in her seat.

“Wait a second, Niki.” He swivelled on his heels so he was facing Otabek. “Beka, do you have any hummus?”

It took him a second to realise that Yuri was talking to him and mindlessly pointed at the fridge when he felt Yuri’s impatient glare on him.

“Thanks,” the blond said. Once he took it out, he opened the lid and placed the container in front of Niki, encouraging her to dip the carrots in it with a hand gesture. “Makes them taste better. But Niki, I have one condition if I’m going to teach you, and that is that you must eat _all_ your fruits and vegetables for a _whole_ month. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said with a mouthful of carrots, a thick line of hummus framing her lips.

On instinct, Otabek opened a cabinet, ripped a sheet of kitchen towel and began to wipe Niki’s face.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly and, thankfully, with no more yelling. There was a tense moment between Otabek and Niki when she insisted on watching TV instead of completing the final assignment she had, but Yuri quickly suggested that Otabek and him could help her with it, since they had already finished with the worst part of their own homework.

They both sighed in relief as Niki settled herself between them on the floor. Otabek mouthed a quick “thank you” over his sister’s head and reached out to squeeze Yuri’s hand, which was on the floor behind him to support his weight more easily.

Yuri responded with a smile and moved his body forwards, taking his weight off his hand, and squeezed back. They stayed like that, their bodies separated by Niki, and their hands joined behind her back, as they helped her finish her assignment.

And that was how Arman found them when he arrived at 7 on the dot with two boxes of pizza. Otabek’s father noticed the discreet contact and smiled to himself before he called everyone over to the dining room.

Arman was so distracted by them that he almost got tackled by Niki as she barrelled towards him. He picked her up to hug her and saw how his son’s hand lingered on his “friend’s” as Yuri helped him up.

Both Zamira and Arman had had their suspicions when Otabek texted out of the blue two weeks before to check if he could invite the same boy who had gifted him the bike for his birthday. But now? Now, he was sure.

_“Akë?”_ Niki mumbled after she finished her first slice of cheesy goodness. “It’s Saturday, can Yuri stay over?”

Otabek, who was mid-bite, actually choked a little when he heard the question.

“Well, I don’t mind, and I’m sure _ana_ won’t either. But, don’t you think you should ask Yuri that? He may have plans.” Arman tried to reason with her, ignoring Beka’s reaction.

“Yuri?” She turned to look at the blond expectantly.

Instead of replying right away, Yuri looked at Otabek, who shrugged, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks… something Otabek hoped they would attribute to his little incident with the food a second ago.

“Mhm, will there be any more braids? Because last time you promised me braids,” he mentioned, his index finger tapping his chin, as if he were thinking about it.

“Yes! As many as you want!” she told him, a smile already forming.

“Well, in that case, I’ll have to stay, I guess.” He winked at her and she celebrated, doing a little dance on her chair.

While she chatted with her dad about what movie they should watch, Yuri turned to Otabek to ask if he was okay with Yuri sleeping at his house, but Beka beat him to it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll just call my house to let them know I’m staying here.”

When they finished eating, and Yuri excused himself to make the call, Otabek started cleaning the table along with Niki. Arman regarded his son for a second, finally making a decision as Yuri entered the dining room and the two boys smiled at each other. Before he could say something, though, his daughter started talking and dragging their guest towards the living room again.

“Yuri, could you braid my hair now?” Both father and son heard Niki’s voice through the archway. They looked at each other and shook their heads, fond smiles making an appearance the moment Yuri’s reply was followed by an excited squeal.

“I’ll do the dishes,” Otabek said as his father grabbed the boxes to throw them away and then put the leftovers in the fridge.

“I’ll help you.” Arman moved to stand next to his son, dishcloth at the ready to start drying everything.

“When does _ana’s_ shift end today?”

“At 8.30, I’m supposed to go pick her up,” Arman said as he glanced at the clock. He still had around fifteen minutes before he had to leave.

“She isn’t overworking herself again, is she? I told her I could get a part-time job if we’re a little tight with the mon—”

“Beka.” His father touched his shoulder to stop his rambling. “No, son. I won’t let her do that again. Once was enough, believe me.” Arman sighed as he continued with his task. “They are just short on staff at the hospital and she offered to take today’s shift for a little extra cash. Nothing to worry about.”

Otabek nodded, debating what to say next.

_“Akë,_ promise me you’ll tell me if we are in trouble, okay?” His big, unguarded eyes, the same colour as Zamira and Niki’s, had an immediate effect on Arman.

“Yes,” he said and took advantage of their proximity to whisper, “as long as you promise to tell us when you start dating Yuri.”

Otabek, who had gone back to finish the washing-up, whipped his head up so fast he almost dropped the last plate he was holding.

“W—what?”

“Because, let me tell you, if you guys are already dating and you haven’t told us…” his father trailed off, trying to appear threatening, but the smile on his face betrayed him.

“That’s not— We’re _not_… he’s, I mean— I’m not even sure if that’s— We’re _friends,’_ Otabek said after a few failed attempts.

“Right! Of course. Just let us know, okay?” Arman put his hand on Otabek’s shoulder and squeezed before leaving him there as he put on his jacket and grabbed his car keys. “Be back in a while!” he said from the door and then locked it behind him.

Otabek stood there, the water still running, the plate clean but long forgotten as he stared at the dark sky outside through the little window above the sink. Light footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent room, and he finally came back to reality when he felt Yuri’s hand on his arm.

“Beka, you okay?” he said, concern etching its way onto his beautiful features. “Niki said your dad probably left to go pick up your mum but, I don’t know, I guess I was worried you guys had a fight or something.”

“No.” Otabek’s voice felt rather weak, even to his own ears, and he cleared his throat. “No, Niki’s right, he did leave to go pick up _ana_ from work. Why did you think we fought?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m staying without much warning or something?” Yuri refused to meet his eyes.

Otabek closed the tap, put the last plate in the rack next to the sink and wiped his hands on the dishcloth his father had left there. He turned towards Yuri, grabbing the hand in his arm and putting it around his own neck. Otabek stepped closer and hugged him for a second, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the conversation with his dad.

“Believe me, Yura,” Otabek said, his warm breath ghosting over Yuri’s neck, “you’re not imposing. _Akë_ wouldn’t have agreed with Niki’s request if he didn’t like you being here.” He leaned his head back and brushed a loose strand that had fallen from Yuri’s bun behind his ear.

“Do _you_ mind? That I’m staying, I mean,” Yuri said quietly, afraid of breaking the peacefulness of the moment.

“Not in the slightest,” Otabek whispered back, getting lost in Yuri’s eyes all over again now that his father’s words had started to sink in.

He was rewarded with a shy smile from the blond as they stepped back from the embrace. Their hands found each other, and Otabek silently dragged Yuri back towards the living room where Niki was waiting to start braiding Yuri’s hair.

It was going to be an interesting night.

* * *

Slim fingers weaved through golden locks, creating a plethora of thin braids, each one tied off with colourful bows. Nikol proudly held out a mirror showing Yuri what she had done while Otabek browsed the kids’ movie options on Netflix. He smiled as he heard Yuri praising his sister’s handiwork.

“Okay, how about _Monsters University?” _he asked and looked at them over his shoulder. Yuri nodded and looked over at Niki, who seemed to be thinking about something.

“Yuri, can I paint your nails before the movie? I think it will make you look even prettier!” she giggled.

“Sure, but only if we can paint Beka’s as well,” he said, his eyes shining in amusement.

“Fine,” Otabek sighed, pretending to be annoyed, and Niki ran back to her room to get her nail polish collection. “You know, I used to help Alina all the time with her nails and she usually insisted on painting mine as well.”

“Really?” Yuri said as Beka nodded and sat down next to him on his right. Niki came back not a second later, sitting on the other side and opening the box where she had the many nail polish bottles she owned.

After settling on black for Beka, gold for Yuri and green for Niki, they set out to work, making good progress quickly since there were two people painting one hand each at the same time.

Once that was done, Niki went to the bathroom and Otabek got the movie ready, waiting for her to press play.

“Thank you, Yura,” he said, turning to look at Yuri next to him.

“What for?” Yuri asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“For being my friend and tolerating my sister’s tantrums and crazy whims? Not everyone would let a seven-year-old braid their hair and paint their nails, you know?” Otabek said, grabbing one of Yuri’s hands that was resting on the space between them, his fingers going over the glittery nails to emphasise his point.

“I like being here with you guys.” Yuri smiled genuinely and shrugged before he continued. “Besides, I enjoy Niki’s crazy whims. I might just go and buy this gold nail polish for myself, by the way.”

Otabek laughed, his eyes crinkling.

“You are amazing,” he said before he had time to think about it and back down, his hand still on top of Yuri’s.

The blond turned his hand and laced their fingers together, but they couldn’t talk about what that could possibly mean because Niki came back, turned off the light and snuggled close to Yuri on the couch as the movie started.

They were halfway through when Yuri noticed that Niki’s head was on his lap, her eyes closed and her breathing even.

“Beka,” Yuri squeezed his hand to get his attention. The other teen was awake but his blinking was getting slower. “Shouldn’t we take her to bed? Or at least move her so that she’s more comfortable?”

“Yeah.” Otabek, reluctantly, got up and moved Niki so that she was curled up on the opposite side of the couch. He grabbed the throw they usually had on the back of the couch and draped it over her so that she wouldn’t be cold. She stirred a little, but otherwise remained sound asleep.

When Otabek turned around, he found Yuri sprawled out, or at least as much as he could without disturbing Niki with his feet, his back against the cushions. He had even taken off his shoes.

“Really?” Otabek asked him, clearly amused by the situation. “Should I bring another blanket?”

“No, just... come back?” What started out as a demand quickly ended up sounding like a question, uncertainty sipping through Yuri’s words.

Wordlessly, Otabek kicked off his sneakers. He then took off his glasses and left them on the coffee table before lying down as well. He was facing Yuri, the movie having lost all its interest. Yuri moved just a little bit towards him and, instinctively, Otabek wrapped his arm around Yuri’s waist, bringing his body closer.

They remained silent for a while, just basking in each other’s warmth, until Otabek felt one of Yuri’s hands come to rest against his neck, Yuri’s fingertips reaching the little hairs at the back.

“When did you decide to get an undercut?” the blond suddenly asked, his voice hushed so as not to wake the sleeping child at their feet.

Otabek had closed his eyes and was clearly enjoying Yuri’s small caresses. He stifled a yawn before he replied.

“It was last summer, right before school started. One afternoon, Niki was chewing gum and decided that, instead of getting up and throwing it away like any other human being on the planet would, she wanted to see if she could spit it out into the bin in the kitchen from her seat in the dining room.”

“It didn’t land inside the bin, did it?” Yuri asked, not even trying to hide the fact he found the explanation hilarious.

“Nope, it landed on the back of my head. _Ana_ tried to fix it, but it was a lost cause. I went to the hairdresser’s and this was the only possible solution unless I wanted to shave my entire head.” Otabek’s voice had got slightly deeper with sleep and his words were slurred a bit.

“Well, it looks good.” Yuri settled on saying but he was only met with silence.

Otabek’s lips were parted and they were so, so _tempting._ Instead, taking one quick look towards Niki to make sure she was still asleep, Yuri kissed Otabek’s cheek and then rested his head on the other boy’s outstretched arm.

“You’re amazing, too, Beka,” Yuri whispered and closed his eyes, sleep quickly claiming him as well.

* * *

When Zamira and Arman arrived, the house was eerily quiet; no one was running and no one was screaming or crying. Panicked that something had happened, they ran inside the living to see if the kids were okay. And they were, in fact, more than okay. The reason behind the silence was that they had all fallen asleep atop one another on the couch.

Their limbs were all tangled, the three of them seemingly comfortable by the peaceful looks on their faces. It was endearing to see them sleeping like that on the couch but, if they all stayed there, they would be in a lot of pain come morning, the couch being only suitable for two in terms of width.

Zamira slipped her arms around her daughter’s waist and gently lifted her up, throw included, careful not to wake up the remaining couple. She smiled at how unconsciously elated her son seemed to be around Yuri. After taking Nikol to bed, she returned with a thick blanket, covering the boys with the lush fabric while Arman turned the TV off.

Yuri began to shift, adjusting his position in Otabek’s arms, accepting the newfound warmth. Zamira bent over and lightly gave both of them a kiss on the forehead before leaving them alone in the living room, sprawled all along the couch and enjoying each other’s warmth.

When they reached their own bedroom, Zamira shared a secret smirk with her husband. They had talked about the possibility of Otabek _maybe_ having a crush on Yuri since they had noticed the way their son’s eyes sparkled when he spoke about him, the bike, the club… Meeting the young man and seeing them interact further confirmed their original theory.

“Want me to send you the picture I took of them on the couch?” Arman said casually from the bed as Zamira finished brushing her teeth.

“Yes, please!” she beamed. A few seconds later, her phone pinged with a new message.

“When did you take it?” she asked, her heart melting at the sight of the two boys. She knew other parents would’ve been worried about their son sleeping on the same space as his crush, but she trusted them both.

“While you were putting Niki to bed,” he said, leaving his phone on his nightstand and turning off the lamp.

“So, this is what you were doing instead of turning the TV off or getting a blanket for them?” She tried to glare at him but failed miserably, her excitement still very much present on her features.

“Yes,” Arman replied, his stoic expression identical to that of his son’s, and she laughed, turning off the light on her nightstand and settling down for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I promised something and I _actually_ delivered? Unheard of.


	9. Winter Holidays

“Yura?”

“Beka?”

The boys smiled at each other as they stood on opposite sides of a t-shirt display for girls.

“What are you doing here?” Otabek asked as he rounded the table filled with colourful fabrics.

“I was looking for a gift for Niki,” Yuri said. “Since you’re here, could you help me? I have no idea what she already has or what she may need. I just saw the window display and thought there could be something here that would suit her.”

Otabek was taken aback, first, by the fact that Yuri was Christmas shopping, but for his little sister? He didn’t know what to say.

“Yura, you don’t have to buy her anything,” Otabek was quick to say as he eyed the many bags Yuri already had.

“No, but I want to. You said that this is her first Santa-less Christmas, correct?”

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts here. She’s getting a present. Actually, you all are, even Alina. And no, I’m not returning them so, don’t even try,” Yuri warned him, a playful smile on his lips as he pushed one of his elegant fingers against Otabek’s chest.

“Right.” Otabek laughed, not surprised that Yuri was now able to predict exactly what he was going to say. Instead of being scared by how well Yuri knew him, it made him feel warm in a way. “So, shall we?” he asked, offering his arm to Yuri, who put his hand around his elbow and dragged him further inside the store.

* * *

Presents were exchanged amongst the hosts, all wishing each other a “Merry Christmas” and thanking each other. Otabek had received a gift from each host: a few scarves and gloves — no need to mention they were all from designer labels he didn’t even know —, and a new coat to replace his leather jacket (which provided hardly any warmth) for the cold days. He got a present from everyone except Yuri, who refused to give him his gift until the actual day, and the thought of seeing Yuri on Christmas made his chest feel warm.

The oddest gift he received was from Georgi, everyone else’s presents made sense and were practical due to the frosty weather. But Georgi’s was simply strange. He had given him a hardback cover of a book called _The Naked Truth, _praising the literature, a constant ramble of “how it rings true”. Disregarding the odd remark, he thanked him anyway, promising to read it as soon as he had time.

Everyone said their goodbyes, after they talked for a long while about their expectations of the New Year and celebrated the success of the year that was coming to pass. Some (Viktor) hugged everyone and cried due to the impending departure.

Otabek idly chatted with Yuri, both promising to see each other over the holidays. Yuri smiled at the prospect of spending his holidays with Otabek at some point, continuing to smile as he entered the car that had been sent to pick him up, his heart beating fast as he saw Otabek’s grin when he closed the car door for Yuri and his chauffeur drove him away.

* * *

**Me:  
** _So how’s your holiday so far??_

**Yura:   
** _Shitty… you?_

**Me:  
** _Alina is back so that’s something… Niki is screaming but what else is new?  
_ _Why shitty, tho? You okay?_

**Yura:  
** _My parents have to stay in France for another week… something about a fuckin contract_

**Me:  
** _I’m so sorry, Yura!  
_ _Want me to call you?_

**Yura:  
** _You don’t need to feel sorry, there’s nothing u can do  
_ _Unless you can summon them just like that…  
_ _Yeah, actually, can you call me??_

They talked for a while, Otabek patiently listening to Yuri’s rants and laughing every time Yuri made a snarky remark. He kept him company until Yuri yawned, proclaiming that he was tired.

He truly wanted to see Yuri be happy, but it was difficult to pick up the pieces if Yuri would shatter every time he came close.

* * *

“Hey Beka, do you and your family want to come over for dinner?”

It was Christmas day and Otabek was just waking up, surprised to hear Yuri’s voice early in the morning.

“I will ask, but I’m sure they would love to.”

“Okay, great! See ya at 6?”

“Sure,” Otabek tried to stifle a yawn as he heard Niki’s excited footsteps outside his bedroom door.

“I’ll send a car to pick you guys up!”

And with that, Yuri hung up before Otabek had time to protest. He sighed and went to the living room to join his sisters in opening the presents.

* * *

“Wow,” Niki murmured as she got inside the sleek, black car that awaited the Altins outside the small home.

Otabek had explained how big Yuri’s house was and tried to prepare them (mostly Niki, really) for what they were about to witness.

‘Wow!’ Niki’s voice was louder now in the open, craning her neck to see the entirety of the mansion.

Otabek could hear his parents mumbling their surprise as well but he knew they would be respectful. Alina remained quiet, absorbing the intricate details in the façade of the building, her eyes roaming around the well-tended gardens on both sides of the house.

Ivan, Yuri’s butler, came walking towards them, introduced himself and welcomed them to the Plisetsky residence.

“Wow,” came Niki’s shy voice at being ushered in by Ivan. Otabek couldn’t find it in him to tell her anything; he had had the almost exact reaction as her when he had been there the first time.

Yuri had insisted on a simple dress code, nothing too fancy, so the Altins took it as an open invitation to bring out the family sweater tradition; Zamira had even knitted one for Yuri so that he could feel included.

When they walked in, Otabek could see Yuri trying to suppress his laughter once he spotted the sweaters. Otabek, at this point, was immune to the ugliness, but Yuri had not yet been introduced to the full extent of the Altins’ crazy antics. Otabek took notice of the fact that Yuri was alone, his parents nowhere to be seen. _Maybe they are still getting ready?_

“Welcome!” Yuri said warmly as he hugged each one of them. He hesitated when he reached Alina, since it was their first time meeting, but he was quickly engulfed in a warm embrace as she took the decision for him.

“Yuri, this is for you!” Zamira said excitedly as she handed over the wrapped present, along with a drawing from Niki.

“Thank you! You didn’t have to, Mrs Altin.” Yuri’s eyes softened as he gazed at the picture Niki had made of him and her brother riding Beka’s motorcycle. “Thank you, Niki.” He hugged her again before he stage whispered, “Your present is waiting under the tree in the living room.”

“Where?!” she asked, a grin quickly taking over her face.

“This way, Ms Nikol,” Ivan said and bowed slightly, guiding the family through the grand archway and around the sitting room to the Christmas tree.

“Altin, what the hell are you wearing?” Yuri asked when Otabek’s family disappeared from view and stepped closer to him, his fingers reaching out and adjusting the collar of Otabek’s shirt beneath the sweater.

“Ugly sweaters are a very old tradition in my family, I’ll have you know.” Otabek smiled and pointed at the present Yuri was holding. “When you open that, you’ll be an official part of it.”

Otabek swallowed thickly the moment the implications of what he had just said sank in. There was a glint in Yuri’s eyes that he couldn’t identify, but it was gone as the other teen opened his present and took the sweater out.

Oh, it was ugly alright. But it was perfect. It was obvious that Zamira had knitted it herself because he saw his own name embroidered on the inside of the collar, just like Beka’s. He smiled as he discarded his own boring, grey sweater and put his new one on.

“What do you think?” He twirled happily as Beka gazed at him. The white sweater with black spots was big and cosy, soft against his skin.

“Perfect,” he told him, not missing a beat, and together they walked to the back of the mansion where Otabek’s family was waiting to open the gifts.

* * *

Yuri saw them all gathered around the Christmas tree, little grins plastered on their faces, Zamira repeatedly thanking Yuri and telling him it was unnecessary for him to get them anything. But Yuri insisted, pushing the presents towards the Altins telling them it was the least he could do.

Nikol was the first to open her present, her little hands ripping the wrapping paper apart. A huge grin appeared on her face and her eyes widened once she saw the items. She instantly sprung upwards, her arms rapidly folding themselves around his waist as she squealed her gratitude.

“Thank you so much, Yuri! This is the best present ever!” She proudly showed off her present to the rest of her family members, revealing them her galaxy patterned hoodie, space book and supposed space rock, uncontrollably grinning due to Yuri remembering her aspirations of being an astronaut.

“Don’t forget to look into that envelope,” Yuri said, pointing towards the slip of paper that she had allowed to fall from the package in her haste to get everything out. Yuri was prepared and held onto her when she jumped to give him a second hug. He had run the idea by Otabek first and had already asked the Altins for permission to teach Nikol some ballet at his house twice a week but he was glad to see her so excited about it.

Next was Alina, who was reluctant to accept the gift as she barely knew Yuri, but received it anyways out of politeness, and she, unlike her sister, neatly opened her present, carefully peeling the tape off to preserve the paper, her expression matching her sibling’s as she pulled out the rich piece of fabric of the deep maroon winter coat Yuri had bought for her, along with a pair of earrings and a necklace that matched.

“I didn’t know what to get you,” Yuri mumbled sheepishly at Alina, “but from the photos I saw, I can tell that you’re interested in fashion and things like that… so I called my friend Mila and—”

He was cut off by a pair of strong arms tightly squeezing him. “I love it! Thank you!”

Yuri felt a sense of pride and warmth, it made him feel good to buy things for people and see them appreciate what had been gifted.

Zamira and Arman had received more practical gifts. Yuri, thinking about making their long hours of work bearable, gave Zamira a pair of comfortable shoes for her shifts and knitting needles so that she could make more sweaters, and gave Arman a new set of tools, each were polished and there was every single tool anybody could imagine as well as extra materials needed for a carpenter such as sandpaper and wood glue. Though both were nevertheless grateful, overjoyed that Yuri had thought of them, thinking about the smallest of things and how to make their time at work better and much more comfortable.

While Yuri hadn’t been that nervous about the other gifts — except for Alina’s, maybe —, it was now Otabek’s turn to open his present. Neither Yuri nor Otabek paid much attention to the rest of the Altin family as they pretended to be focusing on their own gifts, so they didn’t realise that there were four pairs of eyes solely trained on them as they sat on the floor next to the fireplace.

“Yura… I told you, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Otabek said, sighing as he played with the red bow on top of the biggest box under the tree.

“And I said I wouldn’t listen.” Yuri snorted and pushed the box closer to Otabek. “Come on, open it.” Yuri’s voice was soft, and he swallowed, feeling nervous and impatient.

Carefully, and too slowly in Yuri’s opinion, Otabek opened the wrapping paper, only to reveal a generic white box underneath. Interest piqued, he went ahead and took the decorative paper on top, freezing as he saw the contents.

There were three things in total. He looked up at Yuri, who had a knowing smile on his face, and he returned it as he shook his head. He couldn’t believe Yuri had remembered that silly comment he had made during their walk around the snowy grounds at school one afternoon.

He picked up a new pair of headphones first, all black with some details in red and silver; he tried them on and realised that they would be comfortable even if he was wearing his glasses, the soft pads sitting snugly against his ears.

He left them hanging around his neck as his hands reached inside the box for the next gift: a mixer. Even if Otabek barely knew anything about dj-ing, having only used some free online software to try his hands at it, he knew that what Yuri had got him was on the very good and expensive side. Otabek was pretty sure he had even bookmarked that exact model once while drooling over equipment he thought he would never have.

He put it on the floor next to the box and took out the biggest gift yet. He knew what it was even before he opened the lid of the box… a turntable. A state-of-the-art turntable at that, just like the mixer. He was in complete awe and at a loss for words at Yuri’s thoughtfulness and generosity.

Otabek looked up, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to show him how grateful he was.

“Yura, I— Thank you!” he stammered as he put the turntable inside the box and pushed it aside in favour of hugging Yuri tightly. “And not just for my gifts, although I don’t even want to think how much you spent on those! Thank you for everything you’ve done so far for me. It really does mean a lot to me. And for my family, too, of course.”

“It was my pleasure,” Yuri said quietly, feeling a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes.

He looked up to try and get rid of the tears he felt forming and ended looking over at the Altins. Zamira, Alina and Niki were modelling the presents they had got while Arman took pictures of them, and Yuri felt his throat close up at the image. He had been fighting how sad he was that he would not spend time with his parents and managed not to break down when his mother called… but seeing Beka’s family interacting so happily in front of him, it was just too much.

“I— um, I have to go and check on dinner now,” he said quickly and let go of Otabek, who looked up at him, concern clear in his eyes.

“Yura—”

“Please, excuse me,” Yuri interrupted him, his voice strained, and walked out of the room, only stopping when he reached the bathroom just down the corridor from the sitting room.

He was about to close the door when he saw a black shoe halfway inside the room, effectively blocking it.

“Yura.” He heard Otabek’s voice from the other side of the door. “Please, let me in?”

Yuri let go of the door and sat down on the edge of tub in the corner, tears falling down his cheeks before he could stop them. Otabek came in when he realised Yuri was not there at the door anymore and closed it behind him. He stood in front of Yuri and opened his arms again, a silent offer for his friend to take if he needed it.

Using his sleeve to wipe his tears, he stood up and practically jumped into his arms, gripping tightly onto the soft fabric of Otabek’s sweater, his tears falling freely down his face and onto Otabek’s neck, damping it quickly.

Otabek rubbed circles on Yuri’s back, shushing him, attempting to calm him down, his heart clenching every time he heard a strangled hiccup emitting from Yuri’s mouth.

“Shhh, Yura, it’s going to be okay.” He pulled Yuri closer, his body pressed so tightly against his chest that Otabek could feel Yuri’s eyelashes fluttering on his neck as he cried. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yuri shook his head, smearing his tears on Otabek’s shoulder.

They just stood there in the silence, engulfed in each other’s warmth, slightly swaying to the painful aria of Yuri’s cries.

He seemed to calm down after a few minutes, his bottom lip trembling as he tried to speak. “M—my parents, they couldn’t make it…” His arms tightened around Otabek, burying his face deeper into the crook of Otabek’s neck, his words smothered by the little space between his mouth and Otabek’s sweater. “They promised they would come… It’s b—been months since I last saw them… They tried but there was a snow st—storm a—and…”

“Yura, I’m so sorry…” Otabek couldn’t ever imagine a holiday without his family. He couldn’t imagine the absence of warmth from his parents’ hugs, the loneliness of eating alone, the coldness of not having anybody around him. He may have not been the wealthiest man, but he could say he was the richest in the sense of having someone always there for him.

Yuri wiped his tears, and looked up at him, his eyes watery, a pale blue, almost glass-like, “Like I said before,” Yuri said and gave him a trembling smile, “it’s not like you can do anything about it.”

_But I can try,_ Otabek thought as he kissed Yuri’s forehead tenderly.

* * *

“Is there anything you may need?” Ivan asked the Altins politely as they sat in the living room and enjoyed the warmth from the fire.

“Actually, Ivan, we were wondering if there was any mistletoe that we could borrow?” Zamira asked while Arman and Alina laughed at her idea and Niki looked at their faces, confused at the meaning behind the words.

“Mistletoe?” she asked Alina, who was the closest to her on the couch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain later,” Alina said with a wink. “For now, you just gotta help us and promise you won't say anything to Beka or Yuri. Got it?”

“Alright!” Niki smiled as Ivan brought a handful mistletoe sprigs from somewhere.

“Okay, Altins… time to decorate!” Zamira announced as the family dispersed, hanging mistletoe above the sitting room door, from the chandeliers and the Christmas tree even.

Little did they know that Ivan had already taken care of the dining room for them.

* * *

Once Yuri felt calm enough to go back, Otabek took his hand and laced their fingers together, eliciting a more genuine smile from the blond. However, it was soon replaced by a frown when they entered the sitting room and noticed that every single Altin was gone.

“Um…” Yuri said, confused, looking around and walking to the open door leading to the dining room. Before either could say anything else though, they heard Niki giggling and turned to see her and Alina playing around in the back garden, Ivan just a few feet behind.

“I’m sure my parents are walking around as well, _ana_ loves anything related to roses,” Otabek mentioned as he looked outside the window, a small smile on his face as he gazed at his sisters.

“I could take her to the back later! There’s this beautiful gazebo overlooking a small, artificial lake — my mum insisted, don’t ask me. Anyway, it’s surrounded by rose bushes and the scenery looks incredible in the afternoon. I especially love sitting there in the summer with a book, just to see the sunset, and— Why are you looking at me like that, you creep?” Yuri walked over and slapped Otabek’s arm playfully.

Both began to crack up and ended up laughing when they looked at each other.

“Hey, I forgot to give you your present earlier.”

“Beka, you didn’t need to.”

“And I said I wouldn’t listen,” mimicking what Yuri said earlier. “Plus, I wanted to.”

“You never said anything,” he muttered under his breath, smiling as Otabek handed him a brown box.

“Yura, can you close your eyes?”

“W—what? Why?”

“Please?”

Yuri sighed, closing his eyes in the process, feeling the box being lifted from his palms, hearing the creaking of a metal handle twisting, the slightly rough material being replaced by a cool metallic thing, a melodic tune chiming out the object.

“You can open your eyes now.” Otabek’s deep baritone voice told him.

Yuri gasped. In his hands he held a circular music box, the base was made of wood with a golden coat and intricate rose designs carved onto the sides. On top of it, there was a ballerina — _from Swan Lake,_ Yuri figured —, her milky skin made of glass, a feathery white dress covering her petite frame, her leg positioned over her head in a scorpion position, the little feathers fluttering upwards against her lifted leg, and a crown of silver thorns adorning her golden hair.

“Beka—”

“It made me think of you. My dad was restoring it, he sometimes accepts some odd jobs when work is slow, but the owner never returned for it and it just sat there in the shop, all alone. It needed a home…”

Otabek continued rambling, he knew it wasn’t much, it could never repay the friendship Yuri had given him or the expensive things Yuri had gifted him, but it was beautiful and, in Otabek’s mind, anything exquisite reminded him of Yuri, as it reflected the beauty he held.

Yuri placed a slim finger on Otabek’s lips, effectively silencing him, a little smile tugging the edges of his lips.

“Beka, look up.” Otabek’s eyes followed Yuri’s sea-green ones, smiling when he saw what Yuri was gazing at.

“Mistletoe,” Otabek said quietly, his voice hushed for some odd reason as he stared into Yuri’s colour-shifting eyes.

“Mistletoe,” Yuri confirmed.

After gently placing the music box on a nearby table, he wrapped his arms loosely around Otabek’s neck, bringing him closer to himself, their noses brushing against each other’s. Otabek, in turn, grabbed Yuri by the waist and his eyes were instantly glued to the blond’s lips, his tongue coming out to lick at his bottom lip. Yuri desperately wanted to follow the _same_ path with his own.

Yuri leaned down ever so slightly and stopped just short of Otabek’s mouth, their breaths mingling together. Yuri was pretty certain Otabek could hear how loud his heart was hammering against his ribs but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Otabek brought one of his hands up to cup Yuri’s cheek and tilted his head to the side, both boys closing their eyes—

‘Beka! Yuri! Dinner is ready!’ Niki’s voice travelled through the open door.

Yuri swore he heard groans coming from the dining room but he wasn’t entirely sure since all he seemed to be aware of was the sound of his own heart going wild inside his chest as Otabek dropped his head onto his shoulder, letting out a humourless laugh.

Yuri closed his eyes and willed his mind to calm down for the second time that day as he felt Otabek step back a little to give him room to breathe. Without moving too far away, Otabek pressed a lingering kiss to Yuri’s cheek, holding his head in place with the hand still resting on the other side of his face.

That kiss felt completely different to any innocent ones they had exchanged so far. This one seemed to express the promise of something more. Yuri sighed, but not in disappointment. He knew what Otabek was trying to tell him: not now, but soon.

They locked eyes and smiled somewhat shyly at each other, after all they had _almost_ kissed.

“Shall we?” Otabek asked, offering his arm once more like he had done at the store all those weeks ago.

“Come on, your family is waiting,” Yuri said, squeezing Otabek’s arm and bringing him as close to him as possible before going to their separate chairs at the table.

The display looked magnificent, of course. The decorations were simple, yet elegant: red and white roses in vases were strewn about the place on the few tables pushed against the walls as well as in the centre piece. Even the china they had chosen had little red roses painted on them while the table cloth was white. There was also some soft music in the background.

Yuri, expecting his parents and the Altins to be there, had planned everything down to a tee along with Ivan, who had supervised the preparations in the kitchen. Speaking of which, Yuri thought...

“Ivan, I’m not going to have the same conversation again. Please, just take a seat?” Yuri told him, the glare losing its effect due to the stupid smile that didn’t want to leave his face.

“But Mr Plisetsky—”

“Nope. Come sit. You’re family, too,” Yuri insisted, and Ivan didn’t have it in him to argue with the teen about that.

“Have you been taking care of Yuri for long, Ivan?” Zamira asked after everyone had food on their plates.

Ivan neatly placed a napkin on his lap and directed his gaze towards Zamira, “Yes, I have Mrs Altin, ever since he was a little boy, such a tiny thing. Always did the strangest things.”

“Anything in particular that comes to mind?” Arman piped in, beginning to have an interest in the conversation.

“Oh, plenty. Though these few are my absolute favourite.” He straightened himself before he started his tale. “There was this one time in Paris, he climbed up a tree and he began bragging about how high he was, then once he wanted to get down, he realised he couldn’t so him, being the stubborn person he is, stayed up there crying until one of the gardeners had to climb up to get him. No matter how many times he climbed the tree, he never learned, and got stuck up there all the time. Pretty much like a cat.”

Yuri, who had not been paying attention to what they were saying, stuck in his own world, mindlessly poking his food, had turned beet red once he realised what his butler was saying.

“_Ivan…” _he whined.

Ivan persisted, ignoring the comment, “He also used to ruin the gardens by picking the prettiest flowers, stomping on everything else in the process. The gardeners used to hate him, having to replant everything every day, only to have Yuri destroy their masterpieces.” He chuckled as the memory replayed in his mind, “A monster, a complete little monster he was.”

“Seems like you have a problem with nature,” Otabek whispered in Yuri’s ear.

“Well, at least I’m not running down the streets half naked!” He slyly snapped back, smirking when Otabek’s face went rosy.

“I haven’t finished yet, there was also the issue with his shoelaces,” Ivan mentioned before chewing on some food.

“I’m seriously regretting inviting you to sit here,” Yuri mumbled, his head in his hands.

“Ivan, please ignore him, I want to hear about this shoelace problem.” Otabek grinned, looking at Yuri with puppy dog eyes as the blond glared at him.

“Traitor,” he told his friend, the glare quickly melting as he looked into Otabek’s eyes, momentarily forgetting the people around them.

“Little Yuri couldn’t tie his shoelaces until he was 12!”

“Oh, this is gold,” Otabek laughed.

Nikol, taking pity on Yuri, stood up and walked towards him, and gave him a hug whilst trying to console him by saying, “Don’t worry, Yuri, I still can’t tie my laces, either.” She beamed at him, trying to bring him some comfort.

Alina, who had been silent during the entire dinner, began to crack up at her sister’s endearing but pointless comment. It was a bit of a domino effect after that, everyone started sharing stories which, thankfully, didn’t entail Yuri being the butt of the joke.

Later, however, while his family sat in the living room playing karaoke, Otabek couldn’t hold back any longer and asked Yuri the one question he had had on his mind throughout the entirety of dinner.

“Is the shoelace-issue why most of your sneakers have Velcro, Yura?”

“It’s a _fashion _choice, Beka!” Yuri replied, his face growing red once more while Otabek laughed at his defensive tone.

“Sure it is, Yura.”

Despite the embarrassment, Otabek was happy to see that Yuri’s usual snarky personality was back.

* * *

The constant buzzing of his phone against the nightstand woke him up rudely on Monday morning.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Otabek Altin?” A female voice inquired.

“Yes, this is him… who is this?” Otabek asked, confused and still a little bit asleep.

“Valeria Plisetskaya, I’m Yuri’s mum.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Plisetskaya but, how did you get this number?”

“Details are not important right now, dear,” she replied immediately. “I need you to do something for Yuri…”

“Anything, what is it?”

“His father and I are coming back for New Year’s and our butler tipped us off that you are a very good friend of his, and we were wondering if you could help us surprise him… this would be his first New Year’s in a while with the whole family.”

_Of course Ivan gave them his number, _Otabek thought. The offer was simple and Otabek happily obliged to it. And although it was sad to hear that it was Yuri’s first New Year’s with both his parents, it warmed his heart that Mrs Plisetskaya had trusted him enough to let him in on the family’s plan.

He talked with Valeria on the phone for some minutes, formulating a small plan, which consisted of a dinner at the Altin’s house and the Plisetskys joining them a few minutes after Yuri arrived. It would be a big surprise as he didn’t even know that they were going to be in the country.

Once he set his phone down, he smiled to himself, imagining how the day would go, knowing that it would make Yuri ecstatic; the idea of Yuri smiling making his heart beat impossibly fast.

* * *

“Here, let me help you,” Alina said, swatting his hands away to fix the bowtie around his neck herself.

“Thank you.”

“Beka, chill. Why are you so nervous?” she asked, finishing the knot and stepping back to let him adjust it himself.

“Ali…” he practically whined as he locked eyes with his sister in the mirror. “These are Yura’s parents that are coming here.”

“So? He’s only a friend, right?” She quirked an eyebrow at him and Otabek felt himself blush. He hadn’t admitted what he felt towards his best “friend” yet. He wasn’t even sure he had fully come to terms with it himself. When he said nothing, she continued. “Beka… it’s gonna be okay. I’m sure they’ll love you.”

“You think so?” Otabek’s heart was beating rapidly already and none of their guests had even arrived yet.

“I _know_ so,” she said, draping an arm around his shoulders as they made their way out of the bathroom. “Now, come on. _Akë_ said he needed our help in the kitchen while _Ana_ helps Niki into her dress.”

Arman looked quite busy stirring different pots and checking the oven every few minutes. His father was relieved to see them walk into the kitchen and asked Alina to work on the salads while Otabek set the table. He kept glancing at the clock and almost jumped out of his skin when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

He quickly took it out and smiled when Yuri told him he was on his way.

He was so engrossed by his phone and texting Yuri back — even if they were going to see each other in a matter of twenty minutes or so — that he didn’t even realise his father and sister whispering, clearly discussing the new favourite family topic: _would they kiss at midnight?_

Arman and Zamira thought they were going to, while Alina kept her opinion to herself. As much as she wanted them to get together — since it was obvious they were attracted to each other —, she thought that neither teen would be comfortable kissing in front of both their families for the first time.

Alina was broken out of her thoughts when she heard the doorbell ring, Otabek saying a rushed “I’ll get it” as he ran towards the door. She smiled, feeling slightly sorry for her obviously pining brother.

Otabek swung the door open, his mouth feeling dry when he saw Yuri. The blond was wearing a three-piece suit: dark slacks, grey waistcoat over a white shirt, pale rose bowtie along with a black and white striped jacket. His shoes were also black and white. Otabek was actually surprised by the fact that Yuri wasn’t wearing any animal print. His golden hair was held back in a half ponytail, but his fringe fell across his face as usual.

By the time Otabek’s eyes settled on Yuri’s bright green ones, the other teen was frowning slightly as he held onto the flower bouquet he had brought for Zamira in one hand and a bottle of wine for Arman.

“I look ridiculous, don’t I? I knew I shouldn’t have asked Ivan to help me. Is the jacket, isn’t it? It’s too much, I knew it.” Yuri was rambling and Otabek was having trouble finding his voice, until Alina came down the hallway and saved him.

“Yuri! So nice to see you again. Are those for our parents?” When the blond nodded at her, she grabbed them from his hands and stepped back. “Come on, Beka! You shouldn’t let your friend freeze to death right on our doorstep!”

That seemed to shake Otabek out of his stupor and held the door open for Yuri to walk in.

“Hi,” he mumbled. _Ugh, that was lame._

“Hi, yourself. I didn’t know you could clean up this well,” Yuri said, his hands coming up to fix Otabek’s crooked bowtie. “There.” The blond’s smile seemed to be enough for Otabek to ignore the fact that Yuri’s hand moved down to his chest momentarily before he stepped back a bit.

Otabek let out his breath slowly. “Well, you know what they say, New Year, new you. Right?”

Yuri laughed. “Well, I didn’t think the new you would be so fancy,” his eyes scanned Otabek up and down, lingering on his tie for a moment, “though some things haven’t changed, like you not being able to do your tie.”

Otabek flushed, his eyes following Yuri as he walked towards the kitchen, muttering about wanting to help Zamira with dinner. He sighed and went after him, joining his family as he heard Niki’s excited squeals when she saw Yuri, both her and his mother hugged him before helping Arman.

Otabek looked over at his friend interacting with his family while he brought all the forks and knives and finished setting up the table. He noticed that Yuri’s smile, despite it appearing genuine, didn’t fully reach his eyes. He pulled his phone and saw he had a few messages from Yuri’s mother and felt some of the nervousness from before creeping back.

Yuri separated himself from the Altins while they started serving everything into different bowls and trays and made his way towards Otabek in the dining room.

“How much food are you guys planning on eating tonight? That’s insane— Wait...” Otabek saw the blond counting how many places had been arranged around the dining table and locked eyes with him before he spoke again. “Beka, why are there eight plates when we’re only six?”

“We have some guests coming as well. I hope you don’t mind.” Otabek hated lying to him, but he had made a promise to Yuri’s parents.

“No, of course not.” Yuri frowned and shook his head, coming closer to his friend. “I just thought you would’ve told me, that’s all.”

“It was kind of last minute, actually. We only found out they would be in town a few days ago and then it just slipped my mind.” He shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant about it as possible when in reality his heart started beating faster again when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket before the doorbell rang. “That’s them,” he mumbled as he saw his mother move towards the door with Niki trailing behind her.

They heard some shuffling and muffled talk as Alina and Arman also moved to greet their guests. Yuri had his back to the open kitchen door so Otabek was the first one to spot the two regal-looking figures who stepped into the dining room.

His eyes saw the same green he had come to know so well first. Yuri’s father, Erik, had the exact same hue as his friend, although his father’s didn’t seem to change so much as Yuri’s. Their facial structures seemed exceedingly similar, too. The man had a soft smile on his face as he took in his son’s attire and it only grew bigger when Erik’s eyes locked with his.

Otabek then took notice of the woman standing next to Erik. Yuri’s mother, Valeria, was wearing her long, blonde hair in an eerily identical style as her son. Her eyes, a strikingly deep and stormy grey, looked amazing even with very little make-up. Her black dress, however, despite its simplicity in terms of form, accentuated her figure in a flattering way, making people look at her small waist while the embellishments around her neck seemed to make her eyes sparkle. She, too, was smiling as she saw the two friends standing so near each other.

“Yuratchka!” she exclaimed happily, unable to contain her excitement as Yuri’s eyes grew twice as big looking at Otabek’s smile before he spun around, his eyes filling up immediately.

“Mama?! Papa?!” he said between sobs and ran towards them, embracing them both. He squeezed them tightly, not wanting to let go, almost like he was afraid that they were going to fade away once he let go.

“Shhh, Yuratchka, it’s okay. We’re right here,” Valeria cooed whilst stroking his hair. “We’re here now.”

Yuri sobbed even harder, his tears streaming down his face and yet he had an unwavering smile. They were there, in his arms, and they weren't going to leave anytime soon.

“Mama, Papa,” he repeated once more, only to be showered with kisses and more hugs from each of them. He furiously wiped his face, slightly embarrassed at his own behaviour in front of his best friend’s family.

Yuri turned and looked over at Otabek, who was still sporting the same soft smile since his parents had entered the room. Yuri came closer to him, shock, love and happiness clear in his features, which meant that the playful punch to Otabek’s shoulder was quite a surprise.

“Traitor! You knew!” Yuri said, a bright smile on his face as a fresh batch of tears formed in his eyes.

“Yeap,” was all Otabek said, one of his hand coming up to gently brush the few drops that had escaped from Yuri’s eyes. His hand lingered for a moment longer with the excuse of pushing a strand of blond hair behind his ear. He was painfully aware that all eyes were on them. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Yuri said as he buried his face on his neck in an unexpected hug. Otabek embraced him, tightening his arms when he heard Yuri’s quiet voice, “thank you.”

“Anytime,” Otabek told him, grinning at him when Yuri stepped back.

“Yuratchka, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Erik’s deep voice reached them. The man had a certain spark in his eyes that reminded Otabek of Yuri whenever he was planning something.

“Mama, Papa,” he started, grabbing Otabek by the sleeve of his green suit jacket, “this is my best friend, Otabek Altin. Beka, this is my dad, Erik Plisetsky, and my mum, Valeria Plisetskaya.”

Otabek nodded as he shook Erik’s firm handshake but was surprised when Valeria pulled him into a hug.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Otabek,” she said with a laugh. “We’ve heard so much about you!”

“Oh? All good things, I hope?” he asked, remembering what Yuri had said to his mother a few months ago.

“Of course!” She smiled and patted his cheek affectionately. “And, Yuratchka, you were right... his eyes _are_ incredibly pretty!” She tapped her chin, “What did you compare them to again? Melted chocolate and smooth honey?”

Otabek turned his head to the left where Yuri was standing and saw him getting flustered at the accidental confession.

_“Mama,” _Yuri whined, his cheeks becoming redder the longer Otabek stared at him.

They got distracted by Arman and Erik’s booming laughter.

“Valeria, can I offer you anything to drink?” Arman asked, already getting a few glasses out of a cupboard in the kitchen for his wife and Erik. “Wine?”

“Yes, some wine would be lovely, thank you!” she said as she stepped into the kitchen and hugged her husband.

“Mrs Plisetskaya, you and your husband are professional ballet dancers, right?” Niki asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table while Alina hovered around, making sure her sister didn’t misbehave around their guests and closed the door to the dining room behind her, leaving the two teens alone.

“So,” Otabek said, annoyingly elongating the vowel and a smug grin on his face, “melted chocolate and smooth honey, huh?”

“I— I don’t know what she’s talking about. The only chocolate I mentioned was this, um, thing, can’t remember the name, it was in French, that Ivan made me one day.” Yuri knew that the lies coming out of his mouths were not convincing _at all_ but, he couldn’t stop them. It was better than admitting the truth.

“Sure,” Otabek said, his face coming dangerously close to Yuri’s as his hand pushed Yuri’s hair away from his eyes to look at them more properly. “But, you know, I can’t really agree with you, Yuri.”

“Why’s that?” They were whispering now.

“Because I think yours are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.” They were so close, their foreheads lightly bumping into each other.

The heat from Yuri’s cheeks travelled all around his face, his skin scorching against Otabek’s. They stayed like that for a while until Otabek, smiling, slowly pulled away, Yuri’s warmth lingering on his skin. Without thinking, Otabek reached for Yuri’s hand, gently tugging him towards the living room.

They stayed on the couch, occasionally joined by one of their family members, but not even Niki came running unannounced. Otabek had a suspicion that they were leaving them alone on purpose but he couldn’t bring himself to care since they hadn't been able to enjoy that much time on their own during the holidays.

Reluctantly, they stood up to eat dinner, when Zamira called them over, announcing that it was ready. All of them sat around the rectangular table, two fold-out chairs being placed at either end; it was slightly cramped, but there was enough space for everyone to eat comfortably. Arman and Zamira sat at the ends of the table, Erik and Alina on either side of Arman, Valeria and Nikol next to Zamira, Otabek and Yuri in the middle, facing each other, Otabek between his sisters and Yuri between his parents.

Once they began to eat, Valeria and Erik began to instantly praise Zamira’s food, insisting that she should become a gourmet chef. Zamira flushed, telling them to stop, but secretly loving the praise. Conversation flowed naturally, which was a bit of a relief for Otabek. He had been worried that Yuri’s parents might look down on them or something, but they seemed like genuinely caring people.

They stayed at the table for a while, enjoying some of the cake the Plisetskys had brought with them, and then went to the living room, where Yuri and Beka moved the coffee table and armchairs out of the way for an improvised little dance floor since Niki _insisted_ they had to dance.

Arman turned the sound system on and put on a flash drive filled with a variety of music. Upbeat 50s music started playing and the adults took advantage of it, doing ridiculous dance moves that had the teens laughing as they copied them.

Niki, who had been in Alina’s arms since she was so short, said she wanted to dance with Yuri next, much to Otabek’s disappointment. Yuri agreed quickly, and they started moving to a rock and roll song, neither knowing any actual moves but having fun being silly together.

Zamira, wanting to dance to something from “their time”, skipped a few songs until she found what she was looking for, “I Wanna Dance with Somebody”. As their parents got into the music, Otabek, having had enough of his sister hogging Yuri for the last five songs or so — not that he had been counting —, grabbed his sister by the waist and handed her to a smirking Alina.

He ignored her as he took hold of Yuri’s hands, the two of them singing the words of the chorus along with the adults with stupid smiles on their faces.

They twirled each other, awkwardly flailing their arms around, giggling at each other’s weird dance moves. Every few minutes they stepped on each other’s feet, repeatedly apologising between breathless laughs. Yuri may have been an amazing ballet dancer but that was solo dancing. His partner skills were definitely questionable.

Yuri’s parents, on the other hand, were showing professional moves, dancing flawlessly with synchronised movements. Zamira and Arman weren’t as great but they had a rhythm to their steps, their bodies moving in sync almost as if they were one person; they weren’t perfect, but they were having fun.

They danced the rest of the night away, only stopping about fifteen minutes before midnight when Alina turned on the TV to watch the ball drop. While Zamira and Arman went to the kitchen to look for the champagne and flutes, Yuri stayed glued to Otabek’s side as the two of them talked with Yuri’s parents about Paris.

Alina, who had been watching them all night, called Otabek over to help her hand out the sparkly drinks to the adults and the non-alcoholic version for the teens and Nikol. The almost crestfallen look on Yuri’s face saddened her, but she was sure they would find another chance to kiss without their families around.

By the time everyone had their drinks, the TV roared in the background, the cheering of the crowd in New York signalling the beginning of the New Year.

Yuri was engulfed in a hug from his parents, getting a kiss on each cheek before the two of them shared a chaste one right before his eyes. He pushed them away from him gently, mumbling “gross” while they laughed at his embarrassed expression and blush. His eyes fell on Zamira and Arman then, who were whispering something to each other not too far from them before moving to greet their children next.

When Yuri finally looked over at his best friend standing across the room, getting kisses from his sisters and hugs from his parents, he realised he desperately wanted to be next to him, even if he was happy to have his parents with him there. An unexpected thought tugged at his heartstrings when Otabek locked eyes with him and gave him that soft, unguarded and heart-warming smile that he only reserved for the people he cared for the most. It disarmed Yuri’s defences, making him feel vulnerable as he drew in a shaky breath, trying to smile back.

_I think I’m falling for you, Beka._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelings, dude. They suck.
> 
> Also, please forgive any mistakes. It's almost 2 am and I cannot see anymore. Thanks.


	10. Mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, the resort they go to is the Four Seasons Resort and Residences Jackson Hole in Wyoming ^^

**Viktor:  
** _should I take my gucci or armani jacket???_

**Phichit:   
** _armani, for sure_

**Yura:  
** _not that piece of shit  
_ _it looks like a potato sack_

**Viktor:  
** _*gasp* do not offend my baby that way  
_ _btw Phichit, do you know if Yuuri is coming? <3_

**Yura:  
** _ask him yourself loser!_

**Phichit:  
** _he is!  
_ _but really you *should* ask him yourself…_

**Mila:  
** _what time are we supposed to be at the airport?_

**Seung-Gil:  
** _8am_

**Yura:  
** _you’re shitting me right???_

**JJ:  
** _language, princess!_

**Yura:  
** _FUCK OFF_

**Viktor:  
** _Yurio, that’s not polite_

**Yura:  
** _and you’re not my dad so shut it, old man_

**Viktor:  
** _i did not raise you this way_

**Seung-Gil:  
** _Not a joke  
_ _You people should really pay more attention_

**Chris:  
** _how many days are we staying?_

**Georgi:  
** _We leave early on Friday and come back Sunday evening!_

**Chris:  
** _thank you! <3_

**Phichit:  
** _have you guys packed yet?  
_ _i’m procrastinating…  
_ _can u take hamsters on a plane???_

**Mila:  
** _yeah, i see you clogging up my instagram feed  
_ _and… no? why would you?_

**Phichit:  
** _i don’t want to leave my babies behind </3_

**Yura:  
** _don’t you have anyone that can take care of them?_

**Phichit:  
** _of course!!! but it’s not the same when their mama is not around_

**Yura:  
**…  
_Beka, please tell me you’re awake  
__i can’t take this anymore_

**Me:  
** _umm, why are you guys talking about packing and airports?_

**Seung-Gil:  
** _I swear…  
_ _I thought you were different, Otabek_

**Me:  
** _sorry to disappoint  
_ _but i really have no idea_

**Viktor:  
** _it’s the annual trip to the mountains!!! :D_

**Yura:  
** _i think you were absent the day when the teachers reminded all of us about the payments and stuff_

**Seung-Gil:  
** _And you didn’t think you should’ve mentioned something to him because...?_

**Yura:  
** _i may or may not have forgotten about the trip until the old man sent that first message_

**Mila:  
** _basically, we’re going to the mountains this friday  
_ _the school always organises a trip during the winter holidays, though not many people go since they’re usually out of the country with their families  
_ _but all the club members are going this year!  
_ _you have to come too, otabek!!!_

**JJ:  
** _but would he be able to make it if he pays now?_

**Phichit:  
** _yeah, the teachers always save some extra seats in case anyone joins last minute!  
_ _that’s what happened to me last year_

**Me:  
** _even if they do, i don’t really have the money to afford it_

**Georgi:  
** _What if the club pays for it and Seung-Gil just adds it to your debt later?_

**Me:  
** _as a loan, you mean?_

**Seung-Gil:  
** _That could be arranged_

**Yura:  
** _no need  
_ _i’ll pay for it  
_ _you can’t leave me alone with these idiots for a whole weekend, beka  
_ _and no, you’re not paying me back!_

* * *

Otabek heard his phone ring, immediately picking it up once he saw that Yuri was calling him via facetime.

“Hey, Yura,” he said, smiling when he saw Yuri’s face.

“Hey, yourself.” Yuri reached for two things outside the camera’s range, holding them up so Otabek could see. “What do you think? Leopard print or cheetah print?”

“Are you sure you’re not possessed by Viktor?”

“Fuck off, asshole! But seriously, which one?”

“Aren’t they the same?”

“Unfriended, unfollowed, blocked, my mum is calling your mum and you’re not invited to my teen queen sweet sixteen summer beach bash birthday party.”

“Harsh,” Otabek put a hand on his chest, pretending to be wounded by Yuri’s words. “But, where else are you going to get your fix of these chocolate eyes, Yura?”

He smirked when he saw heat rising on Yuri’s cheeks.

“Sh—shut up and pick one, okay!” he huffed, angling the camera towards the clothes that were now lying on his bed. “Option 1, cheetah; option 2, leopard. Choose, please.”

“Umm, option 1?” Otabek hesitated, not really seeing any difference.

“Yeah, okay, then I should take the sneakers I got from Viktor for Christmas.” Yuri’s profile came back into view, a frown on his face as he shuffled more clothes around his closet, looking for the shoes he wanted.

“Yura… I think you have a problem,” Otabek said.

“What? You don’t think the outfit would work?” The frown deepened as he looked back at the camera.

“No, it’s not that. How much animal print do you own?” Otabek’s tone wasn’t judgemental, he was just surprised at the sheer amount of spots he could see in Yuri’s closet.

“There’s a logical explanation for all of this.” He gestured towards the gigantic pile of clothes behind him. “Mama bought me a cheetah print hoodie.” He raised the garment Otabek had chosen before tossing it on an open suitcase he had on the side. “I bought a few more cat-themed stationery items, people saw me wearing or using them, they gifted me more and more for my birthdays and holidays, fast forward a couple of years and here we are.”

“Wow.” He couldn’t find the right words, still astonished at the amount of animal print. “Just wow.”

“So, what are you going to bring?”

“I don’t know, couple of hoodies and jeans, I mean, it’s just a weekend.” He shrugged.

“You do realise how cold it’s going to be, right?” Yuri’s eyebrows creased in concern, his eyes a soft hue of crystal blue. “Don’t you have any more layers?”

“I have a few long-sleeved shirts and a warm winter jacket.”

“Beka—”

“Yura, I’m going to be fine.”

“Okay.” Otabek saw how Yuri’s features began to gradually relax, a smile beginning to form. “I can’t wait to see you on Friday. I miss you, it’s been over a week.”

“I miss you too, Yura.” His eyes softened when he saw Yuri’s small and shy smile.

They talked for a good twenty minutes until Yuri was called by Ivan to know whether he was going to accompany his parents for brunch or not. Otabek, after asking permission to go on the trip from his own parents, started packing his warmest clothes and had to dig through his drawers to find them since he didn’t usually need them.

In his search, he found the boxes where he had kept all of the gifts from his birthday and Christmas. Grabbing a few of the scarfs and gloves the other hosts had given him, he saw the book Georgi had bought for him. He felt himself blush a little; he had completely forgotten about it.

Knowing he would see him on the trip, and that Georgi would probably ask him about it, he put it inside his bag to read during the plane ride to the mountains.

* * *

“Yurio! Otabek! Over here!” Viktor was waving one of his arms enthusiastically at them. Otabek heard Yuri mutter something in Russian under his breath as they walked through the surprisingly small group of students who would be attending the trip.

“Finally,” Seung-Gil murmured and got up, unlocking his phone before calling for everyone’s attention. “Now that we’re all here, I just wanted to go over the usual rules. Since this is Otabek and Yuri’s first trip, this is mostly for you, but I’m sure some of the older members of the club could use a little reminder.” His overly sweet smile was directed solely at Viktor and Christophe, who had the decency to slump further down their seats.

“What do you mean ‘rules’?” Otabek asked, slightly confused. “Wouldn’t that be covered in the information sheet the teachers gave us?” Yuri had sent him a copy after getting his parents’ approval to go.

“Trip- and safety-wise, yes, that should be sufficient. But we’re talking club rules here,” Seung-Gil elaborated lazily, typing away at this phone.

“The club’s still running even if we’re not at school?”

“Technically,” Phichit jumped in, “since this is a school trip, it could be considered school hours. Of course, just like at the club, we’ll only devote a fraction of the day to the club activities.”

“Exactly. Did you all pack the required outfits I asked you to?” Seung-Gil asked the group and got affirmative responses all around. “Great, thank you. Now, rules. They are basically the same as when we’re in the club: we’re all to engage in conversation with our clients, be polite and respectful at all times, even if we’re not within the four walls of the music room, but, most importantly, we shouldn’t engage in any activity which may be deemed inappropriate in school environment.”

“Meaning?” Yuri asked, raising an eyebrow when he saw Chris, Viktor _and_ Mila squirming in their seats.

“Basically, hugging, kissing or holding hands with other club members or students in front of the clients. It has happened before and we’ve _all_ suffered the consequences of that. Right, guys?” Seung-Gil’s eyes were sparkling dangerously under the fluorescent lights of the airport. Half of his face was shadowed, since his back was to the windows, which turned his expression into something even more menacing. “Do I make myself clear?”

The entire club swallowed loudly and nodded at the silent threat. The guy definitely lived up to his type, Otabek thought.

“Awesome,” Yuri mumbled to himself. There went all of his dreams of snuggling with Beka under a blanket in front of a fireplace and a shared cup of hot cocoa. “Wait…” he said suddenly, looking around. “Why are there no teachers here yet?”

“They’re coming here at 9,” Yuuri’s voice said behind him, prompting the entire club to turn around. “Good morning,” he smiled nervously at them, not used to being the centre of attention.

“Morning,” Yuri said before focusing on Seung-Gil’s figure still standing in front of them. “You told us to be here at 8. I had to get up at freaking insane o’clock for that!”

“I needed to make sure you got here in time to have this little chat.” Seung-Gil raised an eyebrow at him before continuing. “And you were still fifteen minutes late.”

By the time they boarded the plane, Yuri was still fuming.

* * *

They arrived at the resort at around 2 pm and were quickly sent up to their rooms to unpack. Yuri, disappointed that he had been assigned to share a room with the kid with the weird hair, angrily threw clothes in the chest of drawers next to his bed.

“Ah, this is probably one of the best views here,” Minami commented as he opened the balcony doors. Yuri immediately started shivering.

“Close the damn door, will you?! It’s freezing, kid!”

“Sorry!” Minami gave him a sheepish smile but was interrupted by Yuri before he could say anything else.

“Whatever. Gonna go find Beka. See you later.”

Yuri walked down the hall, all the doors were identical apart from the small golden numbers on the top right corner. He remembered Seung-gil mentioning Otabek’s number, whilst reading their assigned rooms. Tracing the wooden doors with his finger while scanning the numbers, he smiled when he finally saw the door with Beka’s at the top. Knocking on the door a few times, he waited patiently — which was an effort for him —, hearing footsteps heading towards the door.

A boy of slightly his same height and brown hair tied away from his face in a bun smiled at him as he opened the door. Leo de la Iglesia, if Yuri remembered correctly.

“Ah, Plisetsky, here to see your boyf—” he was interrupted by a tanned hand appearing out of nowhere and covering his mouth.

“Leo! Your suitcase seems to have fallen off the bed, wanna fix that?” Otabek’s deep voice said.

“What? _Otabek!_ Fine,” he sighed, turning around. “See you guys downstairs.”

“What was that about?” Yuri asked Otabek as he closed the door and they started walking towards the lift at the end of the hallway.

“Nothing, just Leo being Leo,” Otabek smiled and Yuri decided to let it go. “Who did you get assigned with?”

“Minami Kenjirou, we’ve been in the same class for years. Could’ve been worse. At least Seung-Gil got JJ,” Yuri said with a shrug as the lift arrived. “Do you have any classes with de la Iglesia?”

“Yes, we have Physics, Lab, Maths and P.E. together. We started talking after I joined the host club. He and Guang Hong found it hilarious apparently.” Otabek rolled his eyes as he remembered their astonished faces when they saw him walking into the music room once. “At first they thought I was going there as a client.”

“You? A client of the club?” Yuri could barely contain his laughter at the thought. “So, is that why they switched from Phichit to you?”

“Yeah, they love teasing me about being a host.”

“Let me know if I need to do something about it.” Yuri looked him straight in the eye, and Otabek was sure he was being serious.

“Nah, they’re harmless. Besides, Leo loves music just as much as I do. I was showing him pictures of the turntable and mixer you got me before you knocked on the door.” Otabek smiled at him but Yuri couldn’t help but feel slightly threatened by Leo’s presence in his best friend’s life.

* * *

Yuri loved how the cool air hit his face as he moved, making his cheeks feel numb; the coldness brought him some fond memories of his childhood in Russia. Thick snow covered the jagged surface of the mountains, blanketing them as if with a frozen veil.

Children were screaming all around him, falling off their skis — some laughing when they fell off, another beginning to release an ear piercing scream. It was embarrassing to be in the beginners’ lane, honestly. Most of the other members were off in the extreme lane, moving down the mountains expertly. The only thing that made the whole experience bearable was the fact that he was not the only one in that sector since Otabek was also learning from scratch, as he had never been skiing before.

After the instructor went over the basics regarding the equipment and how to properly move up the hill — sideways, not forwards —, they started “skiing”. Really, it was just them sliding down a flat area, which couldn’t even be called a slope, and learning how to stop and such. The guy drone on and on about maintaining a good posture and the “snow plough”, which they actually needed to practise with a partner. Naturally, Yuri made his way towards Otabek before anyone else.

“Partner?” Otabek asked and smiled at him.

“Yeap. You first?”

They got in position, Otabek with his skis on and poles raised while Yuri stood with his boots on the snow in front of him. When the instructor gave the signal, Yuri grabbed onto the poles and started pulling as he walked backwards.

“The backs of the skis need to go wider, Beka,” Yuri said as Otabek looked down at his feet, almost losing his balance. “Keep your eyes on me!”

Yuri had his goggles on his head, so Otabek had a perfect view of those green eyes which were sparkling in the afternoon sun. _He’s having fun,_ Otabek thought as they came to a standstill.

“You did it!” Yuri praised him and let go of his poles.

“Huh?”

“Look back,” he laughed when he saw Otabek’s surprised expression after he successfully completed the exercise.

“Wow, I… I didn’t even realise.” He took off his goggles as Yuri helped him out of the skis.

“My turn,” Yuri said excitedly and secured his boots in the skis.

When he looked up at his partner, he had to take a moment to breathe in and out slowly. Even though there was quite a bit of distance between them, Yuri could see every little speck of honey dancing around Otabek’s eyes. It was going to be hard to focus on the exercise.

* * *

The creamy swirls in his hot chocolate reminded Yuri of Otabek’s eyes, both holding a certain sweetness and warmth. Marshmallows were bobbing on top, covered in a thin layer of hot chocolate, and melting slowly, contributing to the swirls and patterns on the surface.

Heat engulfed his previously cold hands, the contents of the mug almost instantly warming up his hands. Yuri watched as Otabek cautiously sipped his own hot chocolate, hissing when he burnt his tongue, slightly sticking it out in hopes to cool it down quickly, his mouth covered with wisps of cream — he had opted out of the marshmallows, claiming that they were too sweet; although whipped cream wasn’t all that different in Yuri’s opinion.

He loved how Otabek’s cheeks were dusted pink from the cold, how the pinkness travelled from the bridge of his nose to his cheeks, perfectly framing his gorgeous eyes, which he always seemed to lose himself in. How his tongue flicked when licking the cream off his lips. Yuri swirled his spoon around his drink mindlessly, completely engrossed by Otabek’s features.

“Yura, are you going to drink that? It’s going to get cold.”

“Yeah, I just wanted it to cool down for a bit.”

Neither boy noticed the numerous pairs of eyes looking over at their table as they got lost in their own little bubble.

* * *

Everyone went to bed early on Friday since they didn’t really have any time to rest during the day.

Yet, despite how tired he was, Yuri couldn’t sleep. He kept tossing and turning, tangling his feet in the sheets and duvet. He could hear Minami snoring up a storm from the bed on the other side of the room. He probably wouldn’t wake up even if Yuri got up and started tap dancing next to the guy’s bed.

With a sigh, he grabbed his phone and room key card, put on some shoes and a warm jacket and left. He walked aimlessly and actually took the emergency stairs instead of the lift so as not to wake any of the teachers. It was almost 2 am after all.

One of the fireplaces in the lobby was still burning brightly, and he took a seat on the couch nearest to it, regretting not taking a blanket as well. He watched as the embers burnt to dust, falling into the small pile on top of the darkened wooden logs. Mesmerised by the dancing figures clad in red and amber, he felt a shiver run up his spine, the heat emitted from the fire provided him no warmth. At first, he thought it was because he hadn’t brought a blanket, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the real reason, more like there was an absence of body heat.

He fumbled for his phone, texting Otabek his whereabouts and asking him if he could come down with a blanket. Almost instantly he heard his phone _ping _and vibrate.

**Beka:  
** _be right there_

After a few minutes, he heard footsteps behind him, the couch sinking slightly thanks to the new weight now next to him, two arms loosely wrapping themselves around him, along with a thick wool blanket.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Yuri’s voice was barely above a whisper but, in the silent night, it seemed to echo around them.

“I could ask you the same thing, Yura,” Beka said, mirth clear in his features, but Yuri didn’t pay attention to that, too distracted by the fire being reflected in Otabek’s eyes; the melted chocolate was suddenly dancing along with the burning embers still in the fireplace, giving his eyes a certain orangey hue. The combination of colours reminded Yuri of the sunset, and it made him feel warmer than the wool draped around his shoulders.

Unbeknownst to him, Otabek was admiring Yuri in almost the same way. The fire in front of them gave Yuri a sort of halo, making his golden hair glow in the low light. And his eyes were like mirrors, reflecting the fierce beauty of the flames, a passionate roar of copper and gold.

Without giving it much thought, Yuri curled into Otabek’s embrace, the warmth from his body searing into his own. Yuri’s arms began to snake around Otabek, pulling him closer and nuzzling his head into the crook of Otabek’s neck. He smiled when he felt Otabek return the hug and start humming low right next to his ear, the vibrations reverberating against his chest making him feel relaxed and lulling him into closing his eyes.

He didn’t know when they both fell asleep but they did, their limbs all tangled together in the small space. Yuri adored the cold, but he learned that sometimes it was okay to want some warmth.

* * *

They woke up a little after 6 am when they heard the cleaning staff starting to move around the place. They quickly ran up the stairs, giggling as they took two steps at a time, and managed to sneak into their rooms without any students or teachers finding them.

The rest of the club noticed how they kept exchanging little smiles throughout the day, as if the newest members shared this secret they would never know about, but they didn’t really care all that much so long as Otabek continued to make Yuri laugh.

* * *

Saturday’s “club activity”, much to Otabek’s relief, turned out to be tea with the clients who had attended the trip. However, since everyone apparently knew the _entire_ club was going — Otabek suspected Phichit had something to do with that —, it was almost like a normal day back in the Academy, the only difference being the gorgeous winterland view outside the windows of the hotel hall they had secured for the afternoon.

They had to dress up a bit, as per Seung-Gil’s request, but other than that, Otabek felt completely at ease, somehow comforted by the normality of the routine.

At some point, a projector was set up in the middle of the room and Otabek saw members of the hotel staff wheeling tables stacked with large boxes. He frowned and looked over at Yuri, who also had a mildly confused expression as he watched Phichit and Yuuri setting up a laptop next to the projector.

Yet, dread crossed both their faces when Otabek and Yuri saw Viktor grabbing hold of a microphone as he stood at the front of the room, blocking the white projector screen. A second later, the lights dimmed and there was a spotlight shining on Viktor before he started speaking.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” he greeted cheerfully, the crowd answering just as enthusiastically from their seats around the place. “First of all, I would like to say a quick thank you to you all for being here with us and for supporting the club so much throughout these two years. We appreciate your support so much that, today, before we hand out the 2019 calendars you have so graciously purchased, you’ll be the first to see some secret, behind the scenes footage from the photoshoot! Please, refrain from taking any pictures or videos since this is a little treat from us to you. On behalf of the entire host club, thank you!”

After his little speech, and the thunderous applause and excited squeals that followed, the spotlight was turned off and Viktor moved to sit back on his original table as Phichit hit enter on the laptop and the official host club logo appeared on the screen in front of them.

As soon as the poppy background song started, Otabek wanted to become one with his chair, fuse into the inanimate object and just forget his conscious mind for a while.

The video was edited to perfection, the beat of the music accompanied by a new picture appearing every few seconds. But that wasn’t the problem at all. It seemed like there were an exceeding number of shots of him _and_ Yuri, of Yuri posing, of him _looking_ at Yuri posing…

He could feel his cheeks burning in the dim lighting from the screen and he could see Yuri fuming out of the corner of his eye. It was like his worst nightmare coming to life before his very eyes — his infatuation with the blond clear for the whole world to see.

Of course, in his panicked state of mind, Otabek didn’t notice the sheer number of pictures of all of the other hosts doing exactly the same and even of Viktor being forced out of the building after clinging to Yuuri a little too much.

After an agonizing two and a half minutes of that torturous montage, the overhead lights came back on just as everyone started clapping and talking excitedly amongst each other. He was still looking like a deer caught in the headlights when Phichit took centre stage and spoke into the mic.

“What did you think?” His question was, obviously, met with more squealing and cheering from their clients, making Otabek’s impending headache that much stronger. “Wonderful! Just like Viktor said before, none of this would have been possible if it hadn’t been for you guys, so again, thank you! Now, as you can see, Seung-Gil is going table by table distributing your copies of the calendar and, in the meantime, let me just tell you that the pictures you saw in the video will also be available for purchase in our official website come January 15th, so be on the look-out for that!”

Yes, Otabek most definitely wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

* * *

The two boys went through the rest of Saturday and Sunday in a bit of a blur until they needed to leave. Neither of them mentioned the pictures or what they thought of them, and Otabek believed it was for the best. He still felt himself blush as he recounted what had happened just the day before.

By the time he settled onto his seat in between Leo and Kenjirou, he was glad he was going to enjoy a few days away from the school and the club. As Leo put on some music to pass the time and Kenjirou napped, Otabek took the book Georgi had bought for him out of his bag and started reading the final chapters.

He hadn’t thought he would be interested when he had read the blurb at the back, even considered it a bit pretentious, but when he opened it on the plane ride to the mountains on Friday, he found himself unexpectedly drawn to it.

That was actually why he had been awake when Yuri messaged him on Friday night. He simply couldn’t put it down. He did not remember the last time he felt compelled to finish a book in almost one sitting.

And the quotes. A part of him wanted to defile the book and highlight each phrase, underline it, mark each and every single one for later use. He had had an inkling Georgi hadn’t just bought a book that caught his eye or sounded dramatic. No. Georgi had definitely given him that book because it reminded him of Yuri — something Otabek confirmed when he turned the final page.

Making a quick decision, he went back to the beginning and started rereading the words, scanning rapidly and dog-earing each page that had a line he could use later, a plan already forming in his head.

He was halfway through the book by the time they landed, a sparkle of determination brewing behind his brown eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Kyouya as the Shadow King in Ouran and I gotta say I had way too much fun trying to fuse his personality with that of Seung-Gil's <3


	11. Valentine's Day

_“Shit, shit, shit,”_ Yuri breathed an endless string of curses as he ran through the labyrinth that was the school’s gardens. He crouched under a stone table and pushed himself as far back as he could as he heard a stampede of feet running past him. He had run in circles and dropped his tie in a not-so-nearby lily bush as a decoy. He just hoped it gave him enough time to find his way out of that stupid, giant plant maze.

Why had Viktor thought of giving their clients fifteen-minute individual dates for Valentine’s? And in the fucking _garden_ of all places? He could feel the thorns pricking against his back through the light material of his blue uniform jacket but he didn’t care. His lungs were still burning thanks to all of the running he had had to do to get away from his fans and he couldn’t really feel any other form of pain in that moment.

_Snap._

His back stiffened and he held his breath. Someone was close.

“Yura?” He heard Otabek’s hushed voice and felt relief flood his system, making his body relax instantly.

“Beka,” he whispered from under the table, and a second later, he saw his friend’s concerned expression as he crouched in front of the table.

“Are you okay? I heard you curse and ran past my area a few minutes ago. Were those girls chasing you?” Otabek extended his hand and helped Yuri stand up.

“I’m fine but, for the first time ever, I was actually scared for my life.” His hand never let go of Otabek’s as they moved to the nearest corner and looked around.

“We should probably head back and find Seung-Gil, he’ll know what to—” Otabek was interrupted by a loud shriek coming from behind them.

They turned and saw the same flock of girls from earlier, their eyes shining dangerously in the afternoon sun as they snapped pictures of them before they started moving closer.

Using their still clasped hands, Yuri pulled Otabek behind him as he took off down another identical row of tall bushes, getting completely lost as they zigzagged their way through the evergreen scenery.

Yuri spotted a gazebo nearby — the silk pink roses that tumbled from the top of the circular stone top caught his attention — and he hastily dragged Otabek with him, quickly taking cover behind the flowers and plants growing around the columns.

“Shh, stay quiet,” Yuri whispered cautiously, attempting not to alert his fans of their location, and held Otabek close to him, listening carefully as they heard the girls pass.

After he was a hundred percent sure that they were gone, Yuri moved back, forgetting that Otabek was behind him, and making them both fall backwards. He heard a little _oomph_ from somewhere below his head and realised that the warm pillow that had cushioned his fall was actually his best friend.

“Beka! Are you okay?” Yuri got off him, and they both sat down on the dirt, facing each other, not caring about the flowers they had broken in their hasty escape and subsequent fall.

“Yeah, I am. Don’t worry,” Otabek said and looked up, brown locking on green.

Otabek’s hand instinctively tucked a strand behind Yuri’s ear, loving how the rose petals stuck to his hair looked almost like a crown. Thanks to their proximity, Otabek could count every individual freckle which dotted his nose and cheeks — freckles he didn’t realise were even there before. He desperately wanted to trace the constellations they formed with his finger, to feel his milky skin under his fingertips.

Taking advantage of the hand still lingering on Yuri’s face, his thumb reached out to do just that, caressing his nose and cheek gently, relishing on the softness once more as if it were the first time he touched Yuri’s face. Yuri closed his eyes and leaned into Otabek’s hand, enjoying the feeling of warmth it brought him.

When he opened them again and saw the same look of adoration reflected back in Otabek’s eyes, Yuri finally came to a decision after months of hesitation.

“Fuck it,” Yuri whispered and took that highly anticipated step into — hopefully — becoming something more. He stayed still, eyes closed, as he waited for Otabek to react, his hand still on Yuri’s cheek.

After a few seconds of nothing, he felt Otabek start moving against his lips, slowly, tentatively at first. His hand went to the back of Yuri’s head, his fingers snaking through the golden locks he adored so much, and angled his head slightly to the side. Yuri pressed himself closer to him, opening his mouth a bit and silently praying to whatever deity up there that he was doing it right.

Just as he thought of that, he heard Otabek’s shaky intake of breath, his fingers lacing themselves even more into Yuri’s hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Yuri’s legs moved to straddle Otabek’s waist, loving the heat emitting from the body beneath his, and his hands resting on Otabek’s shoulders.

At some point, they broke the kiss to breathe. Panting heavily, their foreheads brushed against each other, a goofy smile across both their lips.

“Fuck, do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” Yuri breathed.

“A long time I’m guessing,” Otabek said with a laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” Yuri asked, barely able to contain his own laughter from bubbling out, too. Months of pent-up tension and nerves were taking a toll on him.

“You’re beautiful. Did you know that?”

“Oh, fuck off, you sap,” he giggled, hiding his blush by nuzzling into Otabek’s neck.

“Want to ditch the client dates and go on a real one?”

\---

The café was a quaint, little shop they found while riding around on Otabek’s bike one afternoon after school. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling, the majority of the furniture was a deep, rich, reddish colour while the sofas were made out of a velvety material, and there were mason jar mugs instead of the typical plain, white mugs.

Yuri and Otabek seated themselves at the back, close to the record player — which was quietly playing an old rock song —, enjoying the peaceful scenery and loving the smell of cinnamon and coffee that seemed to linger in the air.

They stayed silent while they waited for their orders to be ready, just looking at each other, their hands joined on top of the table, random smiles and chuckles the only things able to break their eye contact.

When the barista called their number, Otabek got up and brought their mugs, the strong, sweet smell of caramel from Yuri’s order taking over the table. He gently set the mugs down, Yuri instantly reaching for his drink, scooping out the whip cream and popping it into his mouth. They stayed in a comfortable silence, the only sound being the quiet hum of the music and the occasional sip from their chosen beverages.

“So,” Otabek tried to start a conversation.

“So.”

“Hi.”

“Hi, I can't believe we're doing this.” Yuri covered his face with his hands, a blush appearing high on his cheeks.

“Can't believe we’re at a date instead of at the club, or can’t believe we’re having this very eloquent conversation?”

“Both!” Yuri laughed lightly into his hands, the word muffled.

“Yura,” Otabek said patiently, gently prying Yuri’s hands from his face. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Cause… it’s _you_ and _me_... at a _café,”_ he emphasised each word with a gesture of his hand, his eyes big, making him look vulnerable all of a sudden.

“And? We’ve been to cafés before, haven’t we?”

“But never as a date!” Yuri slumped against the back of his chair, playing with the button of his uniform jacket. One of Otabek’s hands came into view, his fingers lacing through Yuri’s easily, like they belonged there, and the blond smiled at the thought.

“Is it all that different from any other times?” Otabek asked, his expression soft and a half smirk made its way onto his face when he saw Yuri’s shy smile.

“Not really, no. It’s just…” he trailed off, searching for the correct words, “more nerve-racking.”

Otabek chuckled before remembering the book still hiding in his backpack.

“Yeah, but I think it’s better this way than the way I had actually planned to, you know, uh, confess.” His free hand scratching at the back of his head.

“And what had you planned, exactly?” Yuri asked, his head tilted to the side after taking another sip from his sugary drink.

“Better if I just show you, I guess.” Otabek, reluctantly, let go of Yuri’s hand and searched for the book, which now looked old and tattered after so many hours of him scanning through the pages and highlighting the words that resonated the most with him and his own vision of the boy sitting across from him.

He laid it on the table and just gestured to it when Yuri looked up at him in confusion. As he opened it hesitantly and started going through each quote highlighted in bright colours within the pages, his eyes softened as he understood Otabek’s original plan. The amount of thought and time his… — best friend? Boyfriend, now? — _Beka_ had put into it spoke of how much he cared, even more so than the words he had selected so meticulously _for_ him, _thinking_ about him.

“Beka…” Yuri was at a loss so as what to say while his fingers traced the ink on the page in front of him, the quote making his heart flutter and clench inside his chest. “Is it true?” he asked, turning the book so that Beka could read the phrase.

** _Struck by love; I barely had a choice. My heart stole my words and my soul was my voice._ **

Otabek didn’t respond, a blush beginning to spread onto his cheeks. Yuri, seeing this, began to smile, leaning across the table to promptly kiss Otabek’s lips. He already loved the warmth that engulfed him whenever they kissed, goose bumps prickling his skin but now there was also a little chill which ran up his spine at the realisation that he could now do this whenever he wanted. He pulled away quickly, only to be to be tugged back by the collar of his shirt, their lips following a silent song, completely in sync with one another. Yuri wouldn’t admit it out loud but, if he had the choice to do one thing for the rest of his life, he would definitely pick kissing Otabek.

Otabek loved the tenderness in Yuri’s kisses; he loved the taste of caramel and sugary coffee on his lips; he simply… loved Yuri.

\---

Otabek gulped as he and Yuri stood in front of the familiar double doors. Truth be told, he was excited to share the news with their friends — especially after his parents hugged him for a good ten minutes when he got home after his date with Yuri.

But, that Wednesday, he woke up with his stomach in a tight knot that not even Yuri’s sweet good morning kiss was able to disentangle completely.

“Hey,” Yuri said, looking straight ahead as his hand found his, “it’s gonna be fine. We’ll probably get yelled at a bit for missing the dates the clients paid for but, other than that…” he trailed off as his free hand reached for the doorknob. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

They opened the door and found themselves being showered with rose petals. It reminded Otabek of the day when he first set foot inside the club. He raised his eyes to see a banner hanging from the columns that read: _‘Congrats!_’ with a _‘Finally!’_ written on one side with what looked like permanent marker.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Yuri mumbled as Phichit got in between them and threw an arm around the shoulders of each teen, forcing their hands to separate.

“The Hero and the Fairy! _Finally!_ You’ve managed to cause quite a chaos on our social media. Anyway, I’m so happy to see you here!” Phichit said in his usual cheerful voice.

“Huh?” Yuri replied, missing the way Phichit’s smile changed slightly as he was being squashed against his shoulder.

“Can’t I be happy for you guys?” he asked innocently, but Otabek wasn’t buying it.

“Phichit—” he started saying but was interrupted by Mila.

“Shut up, Phichit! You’re only happy to see them because you had Valentine’s Day!” she yelled from across the room before she took a sip from her cup of tea, anger still visible on her face.

Realisation dawned on Otabek and he looked over at Yuri, his expression transforming as he reached the same conclusion. Otabek threw Phichit’s arm away from him as he grabbed Yuri from behind, both arms under his armpits.

“You had a bet going on?! You little pieces of—”

“Foul language is not tolerated in the club room, princess!” JJ said as he distributed the sweets he had on a rolling cart onto the different tables.

“I’ll show you foul language, you bleached as—” Yuri was in the middle of saying when Seung-Gil opened the door of the club suddenly.

“No, you won’t,” he said casually, walking past the wrestling match between Yuri and Otabek as the blond tried to break free from Otabek’s iron grip. “We’ll talk about how you’ll repay the club for the lost dates in the meeting, by the way.”

A little shiver went up Otabek’s spine as he looked into Seung-Gil’s darkened expression and what he could possibly have in store for them. His hold on Yuri lessened in strength momentarily, making the blond try to get away again.

“Beka! Let me go! I’ll show him!”

“No, you’ll get in trouble. Relax, Yura,” Otabek whispered next to Yuri’s ear, trying to calm him down. Thankfully, Otabek’s deep voice seemed to do the trick, and Yuri stopped fighting, breathing through his nose to get rid of the last remnants of his anger.

“So, confess. You were all betting on us getting together?” Yuri asked the group, glaring at them to see who would cave first. However, they were all too used to it by now for it to have its intended effect.

“Yes! And _I_ won with Valentine’s! Georgi was close with the trip to the mountains, though!” Phichit explained, sitting next to Mila at the round table at the back. Yuri, Otabek and the other club members made their way there.

“How long has this been going on?” Otabek asked curiously as Yuri poured some tea for him. Otabek leaned to his right and kissed his cheek to thank him, prompting a shy smile to appear on his face.

“The day after you officially joined the club as a host, uniform and all,” Chris explained with a little smirk, unable to stop his laughter when both teens stopped staring into each other’s eyes and turned to him. “I don’t get why you look so surprised.”

“But—” Otabek didn’t know what to say so he cut himself short, stirring the liquid in his cup.

_“Please,_ the way Otabek looked at the princess when he first laid eyes on him? It was _so_ obvious,” JJ said with a laugh, too, unfazed by Yuri’s fist resting on the table.

“Even if my… _infatuation_ was obvious from the beginning, what made you think Yuri would be interested in me?” Otabek asked, covering Yuri’s hand with his own, rubbing his thumb over the tense knuckles until he relaxed.

“Because of that.” Georgi pointed at their now joined hands on the table. “You have a clear effect on him. And it’s not a new thing, either. Yuri was as smitten with you back then as you were with him.”

“What?” Yuri asked, but there was no anger in his voice as he looked at his upperclassman in the eye.

“Remember when we gave Otabek his uniform?” Yuri nodded at Georgi. “I took a step forwards to go and pick up the tie he dropped when he saw us standing there, but the moment you saw me moving, you sauntered in front of me and went to fix it yourself.”

“That was it?” Otabek was genuinely confused that Georgi and the rest figured them out so easily after a handful of afternoons together.

“That was the first time we saw our young Yurio show interest in anyone that wasn’t himself, his parents or ballet,” Viktor said with a dreamy sigh as he took a seat directly in front of Yuri.

“Excuse me?” Some of the previous fury was back in Yuri’s voice as he aimed his death glare towards Viktor.

“I still can’t believe our very own Yuratchka has a boyfriend! And before _me!_ What is this treachery?!” Viktor ignored Yuri in favour of whining some more.

“Why does it matter?” Otabek asked him, lost as to why it should bother Viktor that much.

“Because _I’m_ the eldest in the family! It’s so unfair!”

“As if you would’ve invited Yuuri! You’re such a coward, Voya!” Chris mocked him as they started to bicker back and forth about their romantic endeavours — and failures — throughout the years.

As Otabek continued to stare, unable to follow Viktor’s reasons to complain. Seung-Gil, tired of the conversation and wanting to start with their meeting before the club opened its doors for the day, decided to intervene.

“They’re cousins,” was all he said before taking his phone out and looking for the list of topics that needed to be discussed that day.

“What?!” he asked and looked at Yuri sitting next to him with a bored expression.

“Do you _really_ think I would put up with so much of Viktor’s extra levels of shit if we weren’t related?” He scuffed, seemingly offended by the fact that they were connected somehow. “My mother adores her ‘wonderful Vitya’ and all of his accomplishments,” he added in a high-pitched voice that had the whole table laughing and even got Seung-Gil to crack a little smile before covering it up with a cough.

_Dorks,_ he thought before he called for everyone’s attention.

“Right, first on the list is Otabek and Yuri’s clear lack of respect for our clients. We had to order a bunch of roses to make up for their absence but…”

As Seung-Gil’s voice drone on about how disrespectful they had been and how they were supposed to go about apologising to their clients today, Yuri squeezed Otabek’s hand as he raised his cup of tea to his lips, the small gesture unravelling the knot in Otabek’s stomach at last.

Everything turned out to be more than fine after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote is from a book which, apparently, sucks. Let's pretend it's good instead :')


	12. Runaway

Otabek felt a breeze come into his bedroom, the coldness instantly waking him up. He looked around, his eyes temporarily focusing on the windows, watching the curtains ruffle in the wind. One of his window was fully open. 

_Did I leave the windows open before I went to sleep? _he pondered, continuing to stare at the curtains. His question was immediately answered when he heard slight shuffling close to him. Was he getting _robbed?!_

He slowly reached out to his bedside table and turned on his lamp, getting momentarily blinded by the sudden light, but it at least seemed to have the same effect on the hooded figure standing at the end of his bed.

Otabek felt his heart taking residence at the back of his throat and was about to scream at the top of his lungs when he caught sight of blond hair flowing from the confines of the dark hoodie covering most of the “burglar’s” face.

“Yura?” he whispered, still kind of confused after being woken up only to find his boyfriend of one week and a half standing in the middle of his room late at night. He grabbed his phone and looked at the time. It was a few minutes after 1 am.

Yuri, however, didn’t say anything. Instead, he allowed the hoodie to fall from his head and walked to the side of Otabek’s bed, sitting down and wrapping his long arms around his boyfriend’s neck. Otabek felt Yuri trembling against him and quickly brought his own arms up and around his slender body, hugging him tightly.

Soon enough, the collar of Otabek’s sleep shirt began to get damp as Yuri’s tears fell silently, but they were replaced with soft snores once Yuri calmed down after a few minutes. Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri, bringing him closer to himself, and then draped the blanket over both of them. Feeling somewhat at ease knowing Yuri was safe with him, he gradually fell asleep despite the million questions still present in his mind.

* * *

Even though Otabek could count with the fingers of one hand how many times he woke up with his face covered with a mess of golden locks, he could honestly say there was no other way he’d have wanted to wake up.

He looked down at Yuri as he snored lightly, his face pressed against Otabek’s chest as if he wanted to hide himself from the world, and felt his heart breaking all over again. His boyfriend’s eyebrows were scrunched together, making him look worried even as he slept, and his eyes seemed a bit swollen from having fallen asleep right after crying.

Otabek sighed at the sight before him as he absent-mindedly started caressing Yuri’s back, loving how the blond got closer to him, covering half of Otabek’s body with his own. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and saw that it was almost 9 in the morning. His father had probably already left to open the shop and he could hear his mother humming softly as she went about the house, cleaning.

It was just a matter of time until she came to knock on his door to wake him up for breakfast, despite the fact that it was Saturday — all of the Altin children had always been taught to make the most out of their days and he actually enjoyed helping his mum with the house chores.

So, reluctantly, he tried to move out of the tight grip Yuri had on him to text his mother and let her know about the situation currently taking place in her house but he found he couldn’t actually move the arm that was trapped underneath Yuri’s body. After a bit of struggle, he resigned himself to text her with his only free hand, getting an immediate response that said they would talk later.

He swallowed thickly. He knew his mother wouldn’t be angry but he feared the conversation wasn’t going to be all that pretty either, if the suddenly louder sounds coming all the way from the kitchen were any indication.

Burying the phone under the pillow, Otabek allowed himself a few extra minutes of peace before he had to make his way out of the incredibly comfortable cocoon of warmth he was sharing with Yuri.

He closed his eyes and relaxed, sighing into Yuri’s hair as his boyfriend slept soundly, still undisturbed. He would get up. Eventually.

* * *

Zamira didn’t usually get angry. She was an extremely patient person, especially when it came to her family.

But when she read Otabek’s message telling her that Yuri was currently sleeping in his room, with him, _on his bed,_ all she saw was red.

She was supportive of them and their relationship, something she made clear since the day she saw them interact in her very own living room, but she couldn’t help but feel like they were breaking a few too many rules too quickly.

In the back of her mind, she knew there was probably a logical explanation behind this unusual situation and trusted both teens, but she simply couldn’t calm down in that moment. Which was why she was banging pans and pots unnecessarily in the kitchen as she prepared a few more eggs for breakfast for their unexpected guest.

She finished everything as fast as she could and was in the middle of setting the table when said guest appeared in the archway leading to the dining room.

She looked up at the sound of socked feet against the wooden floor and was surprised to see Yuri standing there since she had been expecting her son so she could have a serious talk with him. In the end, it didn’t matter either way since she was more than ready to have a more diluted version of it with Yuri. However, her anger dissipated the second she laid eyes on him.

Yuri looked small in his wrinkled clothes and tangled hair, and she noticed his eyes were swollen slightly. Overall, he looked like a mess. A very vulnerable mess.

“I’m sorry to intrude so early in the morning.” He felt a knot begin to form in his throat, his eyes beginning to water. “I’m having some problems at home and this was the first place I could think of… it’s become somewhat of a sanctuary for me.”

Zamira heard the little cracks in his voice, it was like a chipped teacup — fully functional but still broken. It pained her to see him that way.

Yuri didn’t realise he was crying until he felt Zamira’s soft finger wiping away his tears, holding him close and telling him that things were going to be okay.

* * *

When Otabek awoke alone, he walked around the house looking for his boyfriend. He found him at the kitchen table, his bare feet propped up on the chair, mindlessly stirring a cup of tea. Hearing footsteps, Yuri looked up, a small smile on his lips, his eyes laced with drops of tears.

“Hey, Beka. Your mum went out with Niki a while ago.”

“Yura... you okay?” Otabek walked towards Yuri and took the seat opposite him. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

Yuri nodded silently, the words reluctantly flowing out his mouth, “I may be moving back to London.”

Not knowing how to react, Otabek stayed silent, his usual stoic expression taking over his features. The concern didn’t exactly evaporate from his eyes but his lack of response was unsettling. Yuri began to panic.

“It’s not official but my parents are considering it and… and I think we’re going. It’s always just a matter of time before they start making actual plans...” He began to ramble, the occasional tears rolling down his cheek and onto his tongue, his voice becoming hoarse when he saw Otabek stand up. He looked down as he thought that Otabek was going to walk away.

He startled when he felt Otabek’s arms wrap around him instead, holding him close, his reassuring whispers muffled by their close proximity.

“What happens if I _do_ move? What will happen to _us?”_ he asked when he relaxed into his boyfriend’s warm embrace.

“It doesn’t matter,” Otabek mumbled into his neck, his lips tickling Yuri’s skin. “Let’s not think about the future, just let me hold you now and hope you won’t fade away.”

“Beka—”

“Just let me have you for now, let me hold you close for as long as I can.”

“Okay,” Yuri said and got up from his chair, their embrace tighter than however many hugs they had shared before.

Otabek felt a mix of emotions swirling through him from heartache to longing and even a little bit of desperation. He felt like crying but knew that if he started, neither of them would be able to stop so he swallowed everything down; the taste in his mouth, bitter.

Yuri, on the other hand, at least found _some_ solace in Otabek’s arms and reassuring words. The future appeared daunting, as if life were mocking him, showing exactly what happiness looked, tasted and smelled like before it was snatched away once more by his parents’ hectic lifestyle.

Yuri’s heart fluttered against his chest, but it wasn’t the usually happy rhythm it danced to whenever he was near Otabek. It felt like a bird flapping its wings against the small cage he had been confined into for as long as he could remember; a bird who had tasted freedom and now wanted to fly away from its prison, even if both possible outcomes meant his heart would get broken in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some light angst to spice things up! I'm so sorry, boys!


End file.
